


Simply the Vest

by orphan_account



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: AU, Fake Dating, Hand Jobs, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn-ish, lite smut, mention of drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2020-11-08 09:29:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 52,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20833217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Alexis Rose is an asset and informant for the FBI. Her case manager, Agent Patrick Brewer, knows where she is all the time. Wrangling Alexis proves to be the easiest part of his job after her brother David Rose comes into the fold and turns his life- and his stomach- upside down. Going undercover as David's boyfriend blurs the lines between his job, his feelings, and what life looks like when the job is over.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Titled pulled from my stupid mind when I thought about Patrick Brewer in an FBI vest (💀)

On location in Switzerland, where Patrick’s been holed up for three weeks while his asset and informant, Alexis Rose, helped take down a human trafficking ring led by Oil Tycoon royalty, Criss Michaelson, has been very tense until today. Apprehension day. The arrests went as well as they could, Alexis was safe and sound (as always), and now he was left to decompress with the paperwork. 

With a heavy sigh, he headed into his office, stripping the armor as he walked toward his desk. The velcro released with a loud rip, cutting through the silence of the space, and he tossed his vest unceremoniously on a chair back. Next, his gun, pulling it from its holster and stowing it away in the small locker he had in the corner. Sinking into his chair, he leaned back, dragging his hands down his face and allowing himself to feel the victory as much as he could. The downside of his job was that victories come with a price, and he was about to file them now. There were fourteen arrests, a hundred and eighteen charges, eleven pounds of cocaine, and a very promising hard drive that will surely deliver on providing more charges, or even another case. Then there were the forty-three victims currently being transported to the nearest hospital; the downside— the worst side. He had to admit it was a big win, though, and all because Alexis found herself in Criss Michelson’s private cabin when no one else could get in there. A date gone terribly wrong, which is kind of Alexis’s bread and butter and how she became an informant to begin with, she proved herself extremely capable once again. 

Criss never took anyone to his cabin because it’s where he operated out of, and like most criminals, discretion is exercised. But he had underestimated Alexis, thinking she’d be too stupid to figure it out. Patrick had to sit through one too many make-out sessions, stupid dinner conversations, and had been forced to mute the audio when things got really heated between them. But about a week into the sting, Alexis was a hostage— yet again. Once Criss realized she knew what he had been up to, he tied her up and left. Mistake number one: never leave Alexis Rose— tied up or otherwise— alone to her own devices. She’s easily freed herself from the duct tape restraints before, and today was no different. When Patrick got the call from her they sent one team to the cabin to extract the evidence, and the other to make the arrests. 

As he was reveling in his thoughts, there was the unmistakable sound of nails tapping on his office door before Alexis showed herself, coffee in hand. If Patrick didn’t know the ordeal she’d just been through, he would have never guessed. Characteristically chipper, she exuded that aloof happiness she wore like diamonds.

“Ew, Patrick, it’s like a haunted house in here,” she exclaimed. There were no windows to open so she turned on the overhead light so it wasn’t just the desk lamp doing all the work. “Did you start?” she asked impatiently, sitting down in the chair opposite him. “I feel like this one was a really cute escape for me.”

Patrick smiled courteously, used to Alexis’s flippant attitude about things. “Nope, I haven’t gotten the footage from evidence yet.”

“Ugh, fine,” she nearly pouted. “How long will this debrief take, do you think? There’s a Beyonce concert tomorrow and I have my brother sending me a really cute outfit for it.”

“After you fill out your report, I’ll try to get you out of here as quickly as possible, but I don’t know that a Beyonce concert will be the best next move.” He slid her a familiar sheet of paper: a witness account of events.

“Um, it’s always the best move,” Alexis returned, looking at Patrick dumbly and swiping the paper up. 

Patrick let out a huff of short laughter. “Okay, well let me see if I can expedite your release.” 

“Thank you,” Alexis said sweetly. She grabbed a pen from his desk and started with the easy stuff: Name, Date, Address, etc.

“And speaking of your brother,” Patrick went on. “How much does he know about what you do?” 

Alexis furrowed her brows and pouted out her lips in thought. “Ummm, I mean, I _think_ I told him,” she said as if it was something as expendable as letting him know dinner was ready. 

“He should know that he can’t attempt to make contact with you while you’re in the field.” 

Alexis made a face at Patrick’s professionalism. “I was on a date, Patrick, not _out in the field_, this isn’t Coachella.”

“Either way, he can’t contact you.” 

“Did he try?” 

“He went to the embassy and tried to pay off Criss— which technically would have been him partaking in a crime himself— and he had a bunch of illegal passports for you,” Patrick explained. “But don’t worry, we didn’t charge him,” he added more as a joke. 

By the look at Alexis’s face, Patrick could tell she wasn’t aware of her brother’s efforts, and maybe she was little touched by it. The upbeat expression she usually wore softened and fell into something like adoration or familial gratitude, and maybe she was a touch surprised. 

“Well, I only told him to bring me clothes and the new iPhone,” she said to cover up her fondness. “So I don’t know why he would do that.” 

“I think maybe because he’s your brother.” 

“Okay, you haven’t met him, though. That’s extremely cringy and, like, off-brand for us.” 

“Well,” Patrick hoisted himself out of the chair with a small grunt when he heard a knock at the door. “I’m about to meet him because we had to call him in.” 

“Oh, my God, is he here, like, now?”

Patrick opened the door. “Here you go, sir,” a lower-level agent said, handing Patrick a disc. 

“Oh, yay!” Alexis clapped when she saw it. Patrick couldn’t tell if it was because it wasn’t her brother or because of the video footage in his hand— probably both.

“Thank you, Morris.” Patrick nodded him off. “No, he’s not here now,” he answered Alexis’s question anyway. “We’re going to meet him in Dubai.” 

“Dubai?” By now Alexis has completely abandoned the witness report, dropping the pen on the paper.

“Yes.” He hated giving Alexis back to back jobs, but this is their only option. “If you can reach out to Stavros and get him interested again,” Patrick began. “There’s supposed to be a diamond heist going on at some party in Dubai— remember that Royal one we were investigating before this?" She nodded. "It’s at this big celebration—” 

“Twahid Karim’s yearly celestial stargazing party,” Alexis finished.

“So you’re familiar?” 

“I’ve always wanted to go to it, but also not,” she said in a sort of distant way that let Patrick know she wasn’t grasping the severity of the situation. “Because, like, who just wants to sit and look at_ stars_ for three days? But the guest list is, like,_ very _exclusive so I wouldn’t pass it up.”

“Well Stavros is on the guest list and he doesn’t have a date. Assuming your history, we thought it would be easy for you to fall back in with him and get an invite.”

“Which Stavros?” Alexis questioned. 

“Meeran, I believe was the name.” 

“Ugh, the worst one.” 

“You don’t have to do this—” Patrick always told her that; he never wanted her to be in a position she didn’t feel she could navigate or wasn’t comfortable with. “We can do this the old fashioned way,” he assured her. 

“Obviously I’m going to do it, Patrick.” Alexis pinched her hair between her fingers and pushed it back. “I just need to get the right clothes together first. And think about how I’m gonna, like, reach out to him,” she said reluctantly. 

“Well, I’m sure you can figure it out,” Patrick said, putting the disc in his laptop and cueing up the playback. “We think it’s actually a drug ring now, too, so best to be on your toes.” 

“Got it. I will reach out to Stavros now and, like, lay the groundwork and we will be stargazing in no time.” She reached for the laptop but Patrick pulled it out of her reach.

“Oh, we need you to do more than just get into the party,” he went on. “You’re gonna have to get captured and keep them occupied for a while, maybe even get intel.”

“Okay, fine. I can do that,” Alexis agreed. “Can you please hit play now,” she wheeled her hand.

“But we need you to_ specifically _be held up in whatever room his vault is in” 

“Okay,” Alexis was growing impatient. “I can do that.” She spoke slowly, enunciating her point. “Ground floor, west hallway, all the way at the end,” she explained. “There will be a guard. I know exactly what to say to those people by now to get captured,” she said with a dose of casualty and pride.

“It’s just that you’re our only in Alexis, so we really need you—” 

“Oh, my God, Patrick. Can you please hit play!” 

“Yep, sorry.” Patrick surrendered, not wanting to push.

Whenever they had footage of Alexis’s escape, she liked to watch them back. And if Patrick were being perfectly honest, they were impressive. For someone with absolutely no training, she really knew how to utilize her surroundings. In this particular one, she had gotten out of the restraints in record speed, called Patrick on a satellite phone she had hidden in her purse, uncovered a good amount of cocaine, found the ledger of his ‘transactions’, and managed to secure his hard drive. When she heard Criss pull up in the driveway, she grabbed pliers and scissors she had found in the kitchen and squirmed out of a back window. Alexis was no longer on the video footage, having escaped, but Partick knew she hotwired the neighbor’s car and drove it to their safe checkpoint location. By the time Criss realized Alexis was gone, the house was surrounded by agents and officers.

“Okay, so, I want you to know that I _did_ permanently damage my favorite red bottoms,” she told him with her fingertips patting the desktop. “So will I be getting, like, reimbursed for that? Is there someone I can talk to?” 

“I don’t know what a red bottom is, but you can talk to Alice in human resources.” 

“Okay, great!” Alexis shot up. “So I’m good to go then?” 

“Not yet. Fill that out,” Patrick smiled at her attempt; Alexis was always a little flighty. “And then I’ll call TMZ and tell them to run a story on you about a trip you took to Cancun over the past two weeks.” 

Swiping up the paper, Alexis tucked it into her purse. “Look at you, my very own Kris Jenner,” she gushed, shimmying her shoulders. “But change Cancun to Bora Bora, and send them the pics of me in the white bikini.” 

“Okay,” Patrick nodded obligingly. 

Alexis headed out of the office. “Oh, and when you do call David, ask him to bring me my Alexander McQueen gown, the blue one,” she added, swinging in the door frame. 

“Okay.” He nodded again. “And thank you, Alexis, yet again, for a job well done.” 

Nodding acutely but rapidly, Alexis’s lips scrunched. “No, you’re welcome,” she said it in a way that would insinuate she carries the FBI on her shoulders, but Patrick still appreciated her help. And then, she was out the door.


	2. Asset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David meets with Agent Brewer and accepts the reality of a situation he is ill-equipped to handle, but is growing fonder of by the minute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, the interview being in David's POV was harder than I thought it would be, so I hope it translates. Big Thanks to JusReading on here for talking dialogue on this chapter with me. And go read their stuff, they have a great filler series that makes my heart sing!!

David had been contacted by the FBI. Something he only thought would happen after falling asleep during an episode of Criminal Minds, and that scenario went _ very _ differently! After he had processed his shock that his sister was a fucking informant for the FB- _ fucking _ -I and never told him, he knew he had to oblige to their requests. I mean, he had almost traded cash for Alexis, which they pointed out was actually a crime but didn’t charge him so he kinda owed them one. Could you imagine _ him _ in prison? He shuddered at the thought. 

It had been a miserable three days. He had to abruptly halt his work at the gallery, leaving the bulk of the workload to his assistant, Stevie. She could handle it, he hoped. She better be able to handle it. He couldn’t get a hold of his parents, who had been at Martha’s estate celebrating Snoop Dogg’s birthday for three days now, so he supposed the fog hadn’t lifted from that no doubt smokey event yet. Not to mention, he was only able to fly private for the first leg of the trip because the tire pressure dropped considerably while they were in the air, making the landing pretty rough; they hadn’t been able to get a new tire quickly enough for the impatient FBI agent on the phone, and she insisted David take the next commercial flight out to Dubai. A commercial flight. David had never been so repulsed in his life. The crying babies, the coughing passengers, the snoring, the undesirable snacks: an absolute nightmare.

By the time he had reached the address given to him by the FBI liaison in DC last week, he was at the threshold of how much shit he was willing to put up with. When he pushed through the door with an angry scowl burned onto his expression, he had to remind himself to relax despite the coiling anxiety winding up in his stomach. 

Looking around, David took in the space, which by extension forced him to take in the severity of the situation. The lobby was sleek and looked sort of like what he’d seen on television. He half expected it to be a dump, some tent pitched in the middle of the desert, but no, the FBI had a full-blown international office in Dubai, with walls and everything. People in slightly incorrect professional wear walked around, files and coffees in hands, having quiet conversations as the briskly ushered past him. This wasn’t like a police station where there were officers running about or phones ringing off the hook; this had an air of professionalism and seriousness about it that made David’s gut wrench. After a quick breath in an attempt to set aside his anxiety, he reminded himself that Alexis works for them so it can’t be that serious. A petite woman with a perfect ponytail sat behind a desk and David approached her.

“Hi, can I help you?” The woman seemed too polite to work for the FBI. In every crime drama he’d seen, not one person in law enforcement greets anyone with a smile. 

“Uh, yeah, David Rose,” he introduced himself limply, his voice wavering as the nerves tapered away. “I have an appointment with Agent Brewer.” 

“Oh, you’re in luck, he’s one of the good ones,” she said cheerfully. “Not that they’re not all good! But when I had to turn in my mother’s boyfriend for running a meth lab out of an old shower room at an abandoned campground, he was really nice about it! All the other agents talked about me behind my back, but Patrick— sorry _ Agent _Brewer— was very kind.” 

David truly didn’t know what to do with that information and it showed. “Okay...can you please…” 

“Oh right, sorry!” She picked up the phone but didn’t make an attempt to dial any numbers. “I’m Twyla by the way, I actually know your sister—” 

“Lucky you,” David muttered. 

“I know! So if you need anything, let me know,” she said warmly before dialing a few numbers. “Agent Brewer, your 1:00 has arrived— okay— ahuh….” she shuffled around on the desk and picked up a folder. “Yeah, I got it— right. Oh, yes, she’s lovely, thanks for asking. Once the rash cleared up it was smooth sailing.” David’s face reacted to that comment with _ much _disgust and confusion. “Okay—okay— bye.” 

She handed David an empty folder and he looked at it as if he’d never seen one before. Honestly, this whole situation was bizarre and he’s still trying to decide whether it’s a dream or not. 

“You’re case asset number B-13.” She pointed to the tab on the folder that said just that. ”It’s just a numbering system they’ll use to file all your information under.” 

“Asset?” David’s eyebrows shot up. “What? Do I work for the FBI now—” 

“Um,” Twyla’s face fell a bit, unsure how to respond.

“David Rose?” a voice called from behind him.

David turned briskly and there was a man in a blue button-up shirt, with his sleeves rolled just under his elbows; he was wearing some mid-ranged denim that actually looked very good on him, and he never thought that he’d give Levi’s such high praise. There was an easy attraction to him that David hated because it was almost too typical— a guy in uniform. Except he wasn’t wearing a uniform, he wore a very _ open _ shirt and a belt that made David want to stare at his hips for longer than what was appropriate.

“Yes,” David responded.

“Agent Brewer.” 

“David Rose,” David said stupidly; this guy had _ just _ said his name. When they shook hands, David felt his calluses, the feeling lingering once he let go.

“Thank you for coming in. We know it was not the ideal trip getting here, and we appreciate your cooperation,” he said gratefully “I know it’s been a while since you’ve seen Alexis so we can go see her before we get started; I know you’ve been worried—” 

“I’m gonna stop ya right there,” David’s face pinched together, along with his fingers now in front of Agent Brewer’s face, who looked at them with his lips tugging up ever so slightly. “I wasn’t _ worried _about her,” he clarified. “She had fled the country with some of my belongings and I needed them back.” 

Patrick’s eyes narrowed in a way that told David he saw right through him. “Right,” he nodded, face smug. “We’ll just go ahead and get started.” 

He started down a hallway and David followed. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t watch the way he walked, watched it closely. The swing of his hips and how his shirt was tucked in just enough for David to make out the curve of his hips and the small of his back. When he caught sight of a woman who looked perpetually annoyed, pegging him for checking Agent Brewer out, he looked up sheepishly and took a look around. 

He fully realized the scope with which Alexis was ingrained in the FBI when he saw a picture of her face on a gigantic corkboard in the far back wall, beneath her’s were photos of every single man she had a hand in arresting. Boyfriends, David corrected himself. The men in those pictures were all people Alexis had been involved with. He knew she dated royalty and had been in a few sticky situations; he knew that when he was 22 he had to fly from New York to Argentina to pick her up at some consulate building where she was handed off to him by some guard wearing offensive shoes, and Alexis had shrugged it off as a party that gotten to be ‘too fun’; he knew that Alexis was frivolous and oftentimes oblivious to the situations she skated into. But _this_? Alexis’s affinity for complicated men with questionable backgrounds was immeasurable, but _this_ goes beyond any breath of what David thought was going on behind all the stories and dismissive comments about her past. He didn’t want to use the word impressed when it came to Alexis, but he was absolutely stunned— and perhaps slightly dismayed about the FBI turning to _her _to protect the world, or whatever it is they did. More than anything, and most surprising of all, he felt a twinge of sadness that she didn’t tell him about all of this, that she let him worry and wonder where she was and who she was with and if she was safe. 

“Right in here,” Patrick said, opening a door to a rather dark and drab office, holding it open for David; David could smell him when he strode past, it was a nice smell. 

David inspected the chair he was meant to sit in, wiping it off with his sleeve before taking a seat. Then he took a look around: no pictures or personal items, a cup of— by the smell of it— tea, an FBI vest hanging on a coat rack in the corner which David would actually pay money to see this guy put on, and he never thought he’d want to see anybody in any variation of a vest, but he guessed there was an exception to every rule; then hanging on the back of the door was a God awful suit that might actually have been put there to hurt his feelings. 

“So,” Agent Brewer took a seat in his chair, settling into what David presumed was his business face. “First, you can call me Patrick—” David nodded. “But if Agent is something you’re into, you can stick with that. I just like to leave the formalities to my colleagues, not my assets.” 

Briefly, David wondered if this guy could read minds. He didn’t know what the FBI was capable of these days. “Okay,” he said slowly, hating that the comment made him feel a little flushed. 

“I’ll take the folder Twyla gave you,” Patrick went on, reaching out and David handed it over. “It’s empty right now but we’ll change that.” He opened his desk drawer and ticked through some files with his fingertips, pulling out papers and filling the folder up. “I’m gonna send you off with these today, you’ll have to fill them out and bring them back tomorrow.”

“Okay, and, um, back to the asset _ thing_,” he said with his fingertips pressed to the desk ”That’s the second time I’ve been called that today and I have no idea what it means— what it involves.” His hands hadn’t ramped up to their top-level gestures, but he was climbing the ladder towards it. 

Patrick nodded understandably. “I’m sorry, I’ll slow down and explain everything. I just thought you would be a little more versed in this with your sister being so involved.” 

“Don’t know if you can tell, but my sister and I aren’t that close.” 

“Well, you _ did _ almost pay someone close to a million dollars to ensure her safety so...” 

“Safety of my things!” David corrected, finger punctuating the air. “She has my favorite Neil Lane bracelet, my Apple Watch, and my Meg Ryan Collector’s Edition DVD set,” he explained, finger swooping with his explanation; Patrick seemed to enjoy his disgruntlement which didn’t annoy him as much as it should. “Which includes, but is not limited to, French Kiss, You’ve Got Mail and Sleepless in Seattle.” The indignance was strong.

Patrick attempted to hide his grin behind his hand, but David saw it. He didn't have time to decide whether he liked it or not (he did) so he was grateful when Agent Brewer proceeded to talk so he could distract himself. 

“Okay, well now that that’s settled. Would you like me to explain what’s going on?” 

“Sure.” David’s hands went into a small shrug because what choice did he have? “But be aware that I have to be out of here by five, I haven’t eaten since I got off the plane and I become _ very _intolerable when hungry.”

“Oh, so this is you being tolerable?” Patrick retorted easily, with no heat, and David had to bite the inside of his mouth so he wouldn’t give Patrick the satisfaction of his enjoyment. “But, noted. I’ll get you out of here as fast as I can.” Patrick pulled out another folder. It was about two inches thick and he dropped onto the desk with a snapping thud. “This is what your sister is helping us with.” 

“She’s read all that?” David asked. A dig at Alexis, sure, but honestly he’s never seen her read anything thicker than a People Magazine— actually, he’s never seen her read anything that’s _ not _ a People Magazine. 

“No,” Patrick suppressed a laugh, shaking his head. David liked the way it sounded, that laugh. “Alexis has her own approach to the cases. They’re unconventional but we let her do her thing; she always gets the job done.”

David was taken aback, he had no idea Alexis was so competent. Also, he tried to sweep away the subtle rejection when he realized Patrick _ might _ be into Alexis. Not that he had a right to feel rejected, it’s not like Patrick would be into someone like him anyway.

“So,” Patrick went on, opening the folder and pulling out a picture to show David— a person he recognized. “This is Twahid Karim. He runs a diamond trading enterprise: one on the books and one off the books. He’s also pretty established in the drug game, so we’re hoping for a double get,” he explained. 

David paid attention, but mostly he listened to how Patrick talked. There was something about his voice, it was velvety but rough. “Okay, I know who he is,” David confirmed. 

“We almost got him, _ this close, _” he showed David with his fingers. “Bases are loaded, Alexis is on third, and we just gotta get her to home plate.”

“I understood none of that.” 

“We’re up to bat, David!” 

“If you could stop using Cricket references that would be great, thankssomuch.”

Another breathy laugh escaped Patrick. “Sorry, comes with the territory of the job.” 

“Yes, it’s all very masculine in here and I’m sure the water cooler talk is rich,” David chastised, hands speaking along with his words. “What exactly do you need from me? If Alexis is _ doing her thing_,” he mocked. “Why do you need me?” 

“This party— the stargazing thing. We secured Alexis’s invitation, but we’re gonna need to get another. And by we, I mean you.” 

David cleared his throat. “Um, okay, I actually have one already.” 

“You do? From who? Why do you have one?” 

“Is it shocking to you that I have friends?” David accused with heightened offense. 

“Yeah, a little,” Patrick deadpanned.

“Okay!” David spouted, finger in the air. 

“I’m kidding” he clarified, ushering out another huff of laughter. “I’m just surprised that Alexis had to fish for one and you didn’t.”

“Mmk, do I _ not _seem like an ideal party guest to you?” 

“Well,” Patrick tilted his head, teasing expression behind the eyes.

“Okay, what’s next,” David snipped bitterly but liked that Patrick kept the smile on his face. Patrick struck a piece of paper with his pen, crossing off a bullet point. “Little aggressive,” David commented with a tilt of his head.

Whatever it was that made this, the talking, the joking, the ribbing, so easy with Patrick, he didn’t know but he liked it. He thought because Patrick said it with kinder eyes than the people in his past, he didn’t say anything maliciously.

Patrick tucked back his smirk and proceeded. “I’m gonna need to know how you got an invite and if you RSVPed already.” 

“Um, okay, well my ex-boyfriend will be the photographer at the party and he gave me an invitation,” David revealed. He wasn’t Sebastian’s guest, per se, but Patrick didn’t need to know that. The humiliation of the whole ordeal was still marinating with David and admitting it to another soul felt too pathetic at current.

“Okay, great,” Patrick said, his voice a little different than it was a few moments ago, a little loftier, his shoulders pinched. “So you can carry on with him for the night, but you will have to be wired and we’ll have an agent— likely me— in your ear all night.” 

“Whoa whoa whoa,” David put a hand up, this was a lot. He thought it would be going to the party and checking in on a phone or something, not being wired up at a high stakes crime sting, with actual criminals present. “Who do I look like, Olivia Benson? I don’t think I’m equipped for _ all that. _”

“We had planned for an agent to be your guest so we could get on the inside, but seeing as you’re someone’s guest, that can’t happen. And we need as many people in there telling us what’s going on.” 

“What is my sister there for then— decoration?!”

“Alexis will be held up in another part of the property, doing her job in another way.” 

“Okay, well Alexis 007 is gonna have to do because I don’t think I can handle this,” David exasperated with his hands. 

“Okay, so I’m getting the impression that you and Alexis are far more different than I had banked on,” Patrick admitted.

“You think?”

“You don’t have to do this,” Patrick said softly. “But know that if you do I will be with you, in your ear, the whole time.” David really liked his voice. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, and if it feels too dangerous you can leave at any time.”

David’s stomach flipped. It was Patrick’s job to ensure his safety, but there was something in his eyes, in the way his face transformed when he sensed David’s panic; he was compassionate and warm, considerate and perceptive. No one had ever had that kind of regard for David or convinced him with just the look in their eyes that they might be telling the truth when they spoke. 

“Okay, well,” he rolled his eyes slightly. “I’m not actually Sebastian’s date,” David admitted, a tinge embarrassed. He wanted Patrick to believe that someone valued him, that they wanted him at their side, but that wasn’t the case. “He gave me an invitation and I_, like you, _ thought that meant he wanted me to go with him. Turns out, he just wanted me to invite Kirra, one of my artists who has a serious cocaine problem. So he was just using me to get to her.” David then realized something else. “And now that you told me this may also be a drug bust, I realize that Kirra was probably invited to supply said drugs and that I would have been an accomplice, so that’s great!” He had some shitty friends, if you could even classify them as friends. 

Patrick’s face didn’t reflect pity, but empathy. It took David by surprise. “I’m sorry, David,” he said genuinely. David waved it off. “So if that means you still have a plus one open, we’d really like to set you up with an agent so they can go undercover.” 

“Well, if the only kind of date I can get is one set up by the government, I guess I’m gonna have to _ jump _ at that opportunity,” he said, self-deprecating. “Ya know, since Tinder and my overall personality have been utter disappointments thus far.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think your personality is just fine,” Patrick commented, surprising David. “And who knows, you might be surprised with who you get. Some of the people here are actually a lot of fun.” 

“If the front desk girl is anything to go off of, I doubt that.” Patrick smiled again, reaching up to his eyes. This time it was different, more endeared maybe, David thought. And before he knew it, David was returning a smile that felt different too, because it was the first genuine one he’s had in a while. 

Patrick tapped on his desk. “I think that’s it for now. I know you have somewhere to be so I won’t keep you from your food,” he stood and David did the same. “Fill out the forms in that folder and bring them in with you tomorrow,” he instructed. “We’ll email you a contract saying you’re under the care of the FBI and it will expunge you from any legal discourse or repercussions from the operation.” Patrick somehow managed to submerge the entirety of his hands into his pockets, a talent in such tight denim. 

“Okay,” David nodded, looking over the form to conceal his smile. He didn’t really know what about Patrick was piquing such interest, such a reaction, but it was blooming. 

“And I did put my card in there,” he added. “I know you’ll have a lot of questions, so feel free to use that.” 

“What else there to know except that I have to have a fake relationship for three days with someone who probably wears a pantsuit from Macy's.” 

“Who knows, maybe by the end of it you’ll be in a pantsuit of your own.”

David’s expression completely deflated. “Ok, I’d like to file a complaint with your supervisor for character assassination.”

Patrick looked amused with David. “It was nice meeting you, David.”

“You too;” he meant it. 

He left the office more confused than when he had entered it, and the file in his hand wasn’t the source of it. It was the FBI Agent with caramel eyes and nice arms and a gentle voice, one that made David want to hear it as soon as it quieted, and made him feel slightly less ridiculous than most people did. The conversation, while intense, was made easier by the natural comfort Patrick provided. He was so far out of the realm of what David was used to, and he thought maybe...maybe that’s exactly what he needed. 

*

After stopping for food, and trying again to call his parents, he finally made it to the hotel. Thank God it was a nice one, he supposed it had to be to keep up the rouse that David was just on vacation by himself. They have to make it appear like this was all normal for David, and David normally goes for luxury, so good on the FBI. Alone, though, a vacation alone. He hated that he had a reputation for that. It’s not that he didn’t try to keep company, it’s just that company didn’t want to keep him. 

Earlier, when he was eating alone at his favorite Thai place, he thought predominantly about Agent Brewer. Feeling blindsided when he walked out of his office, suddenly being away from him reminded him that he wanted to be around him. To see him again. He thought about the way his face reacted to everything David had said, how he felt sincere and charming. Of course, David thought about how attractive he was, maybe even lingering in the thought of his legs and shoulders for longer than he should have. It was absurd to think of a guy like that, though. A nice, handsome guy, with a magnetic smile and easy personality, would be into someone with such a scowl and difficult traits. Whatever, he wasn’t gonna think about it anymore. 

When he pushed open the door, he cursed his prior thought when he saw Alexis standing there. This was not what he meant by wanting company. It was a room with two beds, not one king like he had expected. Still, it was spacious, with a vanity area, a table with chairs around it, two dressers, and furnished with the nicest couches and armchairs; gotta love the Ritz. Any lofty emotions he had since meeting Patrick were squandered at the state of things in this room with Alexis. 

“Oh my God, David, you’re here!” Alexis squealed happily, clapping. She was in her work out clothes, practically bouncing around. 

“Sure am, Alexis,” he returned bitterly, pulling his suitcase behind him. “What are you doing in here? This is my room.” 

“Our room, actually” she corrected, face turned down. “Which, ew, gross, I know. But the team needed mine because they couldn’t, like, book a room. The FBI getting a room in the same hotel as the Rose siblings? Suspicious, David!" She flipped her hair a bit. "So I just told them to sneak into mine and set up.” David didn't think that's how any of that worked and thought the FBI was 100% trying to keep them together to make it easier to keep tabs on them.

“Yeah, about that Alexis— what the **fuck**?” He didn't have time to protest the shared room, it was horrendous, but honestly, the least of his problems. 

“What?” She grabbed her headphones and gingerly draped them around her neck.

"Were you gonna tell me any of this?” He gestured wildly.

“I didn't think it was that big of a deal, David.” 

“Do you hear yourself? You work for the FBI, Alexis!” 

“I don’t_ work for the FBI, _ David.” She pinched her hair and pushed it back. “I help them out. And I’ll have you know, they came to me,” she added. “Did you bring my dress? The Alexander McQueen?” 

“Oh my God,” David said distantly, hands on the sides of his face. Her complete disregard for anything, but mainly this situation in particular, was harrowing. 

“Well, did you?” Alexis pressed.

“Yes, the concierge is bringing the rest of the luggage up,” he answered.

He guessed he had to go along with all of this, acting as if it’s normal. He threw his bag on the bed and unzipped it. 

“So, you met with Patrick today,” Alexis went on, abandoning getting ready for whatever workout she would pretend to do and sat at a table. “Isn’t he just the sweetest little thing?” 

David began unpacking his knits and grabbing some hangers, hoping like hell she didn’t see his face react. “Yeah, he sure is a fan of yours.” 

“No, I know that,” Alexis agreed, adjusting her hair again.

“So then, what? You’re like, _ hooking up _ with your FBI handler?” 

“Ew, no David,” Alexis cringed. “I mean, I tried,” she admitted, and David shot her a glance he hoped didn’t look too intrigued. “But he shot me down— _which,_ after finding out he wasn’t married, means he’s probably gay.”

“Oh, is that the only reason he’d turn you down?” David shot back. 

“Um, Yes!” Alexis said in an obvious sort of way. “Oh, yay, David!” she erupted, not really reading the tone of the room. “This is gonna be so much fun! We haven’t done something together in_ so _ long.” 

“There’s a reason for that,” David retorted, finishing up with his sweaters. “And I didn't imagine _ this _ being what we did together. I’m having a hard time being so casual about it, unlike you.” 

“It’s not that hard, David,” she looked at him with minor impatience. “I’ve done it, like, a million times. If you just go in there and do exactly what you’d do if you didn’t know what was going on, things fall together.”

“So, I should go to this party and cry in the bathroom by myself?” He let out crassly. “_That’s _ gonna help?” 

“Well, I’m sorry I didn't know you were such a lame party guest, David!”

David only responded with a groan— half because she’s right, and half because of his life. 

“You’ll have an agent in there with you the whole time, you hardly have to do anything," she dismissed his worries. "I hear Ronnie's fun undercover. I mean, she certainly isn't fun overcover so I can't tell for sure. But I _do know_ Jocelyn is a lot of fun, for sure. She gets lunch with me and Twy sometimes, and when you get over her, like, gross stories about her husband, she’s not bad."

David paused, physically stopped moving, and squinted into his confusion. “Ummm, I thought Patrick was going to be the one going in with me?” At least that’s what he thought was insinuated.

“Oh, Patrick does_ not _go out in the field, David,” Alexis spoke with her hands in a different way than David, but he still liked the physical reminder that they do in fact come from the same lineage. "He's more of an earpiece guy." 

“W_hat? _” His neck swiveled to the left, eyes darting.

“Why, did he give off a vibe that he would be?” 

“I mean, I thought he did. He insinuated it. Kinda.” 

“Well, I don’t know, David. Maybe he will be,” she stood up and grabbed a water bottle, and David hoped she’d actually make it out of the door this time. “I’ve just never known him to.” 

David felt stupid for assuming. Playing it back in his head, he realized it was his own stupid hope that put Patrick in the position of being on his arm at the party. David wouldn’t go as far as to say he trusted Patrick, but he felt comfortable enough with him to pretend to be _ whatever _with him. 

“Okay, well I’m gonna go down to the gym.” 

“Okay,” David mocked her enthusiasm.

Alexis floated out the door and David continued unpacking his travel bag, getting his pants in the drawers, his journal tucked into the nightstand. He had brought his own pillow but apparently the very slow concierge wasn’t up to the room yet. He glanced at the clock, thinking about his pillow made him tired. The jet-lag kicked in and it was only seven, but it felt later. The day washed over him and weighed him down. He reached for his phone, not bothering to check the time in New York, but dialing up Stevie to check in on the gallery.

“Has it happened?” she answered with no preamble. “Are you finally living your Criminal Minds fantasy of Derick Morgan rescuing you from the arms of a psychopath?”

David hated her but not really. “Not yet, but I’m holding out hope.” Except the image skewed, Derick Morgan fading into someone much more unassumingly attractive, with a gritty smoothness to his voice. “How are things there, how's the gallery?” 

“It actually burned down so you probably made the right choice leaving me in charge.” She deadpanned.

“Mmk,” David squeezed out.

He had met Stevie three years ago when she worked at a coffee shop he went to every morning on his way to work. He wouldn’t say they hit it off right away, but he grew fonder and fonder of her with each passing Caramel Macchiato. When she found herself fired for not serving a woman who had called her dyke, David offered her a position at the gallery. He would never tell her this, but she rubbed off on him. With the _ I don’t give a shit _ attitude. She had the ability to put all his other friends into perspective in a way he never wanted to before. Little by little, though, David began to peel back from that crowd. It still didn't mean it didn’t hurt when someone like Sebastian wanted to use him for his contacts. It’s just that he knew there might be a little more to life than status and fake friends— he still liked the money, though.

“Everything is fine,” she followed up, no doubt detecting David’s anxiety. “Jeremy sold the huge red one—” she never knew the name of pieces. “So we are, as you would say, thriving.” 

“Okay, good. And thank you, Stevie,” It dawned on him, the time. If he was tired already, Stevie must be too. “What time is it there?” 

“Oh, it’s almost three in the morning.” 

“Why are you still up?” 

“I just got home,” she told him. “Mickey down at the bar was giving out free shots to girls with boobs bigger than a B-cup.” 

“I can’t even begin to tell you how wrong that is.” 

“Well, yeah, he’s the worst, but it’s an opportunity I had no choice but to jump at.” 

“Yes, a very in-character choice on your part,” David’s exhaustion hit him in the face and he wanted to know where his fucking stuff was. 

“Well, I’m gonna pass out, I’ll check in tomorrow. And hey, if you can’t get Morgan, don’t pass up Reid,” she advised; she loved that weirdo. 

“Okay,” David gently snipped. “Best wishes to you.” 

“Warmest regards.” 

He tried to act like he wouldn’t sleep with Spencer Reid, but the truth was he’d give it a go at least once. 

There was a knock on the door and David remembered how irritated he was about the concierge, so he fixed his expression— completely vexed— and swung open the door. “Finally!” he said bitterly, promptly followed by the warm rush of embarrassment filling his cheeks when he saw Patrick. “I’m sorry, I was expecting someone else.” 

“Hi,” Patrick said, smiling with amusement. He looked nervous? And he had the bellhop cart that was packed with his and Alexis’s stuff. 

“Hi…” David’s middle pinched then released with a flurry of...oh God, he wasn’t gonna say butterflies.

“So, I have your stuff,” Patrick said, looking adorable with his pinched shoulders. “The team is supposed to go through everything before we give it back to you, but I thought you wouldn’t want a bunch of strangers going through your things.”

“You thought correct.” David wondered if he came all the way over here just to tell him that, to bring him his things. 

“If you could just unpack it in front of me, I won’t be too invasive. I just need to make sure there're no drugs, illegal weapons, or other illegal substances.” His hands were in his pockets again, but he still moved his elbows around.

“Um,” David didn’t know if they had time for Patrick to sit through a whole unboxing, or maybe it was the time alone in a room that made him feel wound up. “Sure, I guess— uh, yeah.” He pulled his two suitcases out. “Um, and I do have weed...in my bag over there.” David winced a little, pointing at the bag he carried up earlier.

Patrick nodded, a little laughter falling from his lips. “That’s fine. And thank you for your honesty.” 

“Ahuh.” Now David sounded breathy, softer than he heard himself be in a while. He wished there was something to talk about to break the building pressure of between them. He took each sweater out one by one and unfolded it, placing them on the bed in a stack. He could feel Patrick’s eyes on him, not the sweaters, and his stomach reacted. “Is that it?”

“Um, no, actually.” 

“Okay…” David darted his eyes around slightly before reaching for the pants in his suitcase and walking them over to the drawer. “Oh, should I like unveil these? It’s just an assortment of joggers, jeans and skirt overlays.” 

“It’s fine,” Patrick's lips pulled to the side, eyes gleaming. “And you don’t have to do Alexis’s stuff, I know what she brings to these things by now.” 

“Didn’t plan on it,” David assured him. 

He nodded, pleasure still on his face before it changed, morphing into a sort of bashfulness David hadn’t seen from him earlier, but liked. Liked a lot. “Um, so I was going back over everything we talked about in my office, and I want you to know that you really don’t have to do this. I—” He stopped to consider his words. “I don’t want you to think you’re being used again, like that Sebastian guy, with the invitation or whatever.” 

David didn’t really know what to say, taken aback by the consideration, the aptness to detect his hurt over the situation. “Um, that is _ very _ kind of you, but this is completely different than Sebastian,” he made certain. “I mean, my sister’s gonna be tied up in a basement, the least I can do is work a room for a couple days and hopefully not fuck it up.” His voice lacked its edge, but he made his point.

“I think you’ll do great. And thank you, David, for being so compliant, it’s not easy doing this. And I appr— _ we _— appreciate it.” Idly, David wondered why they were talking how they were, without the playful brashness they had in the office, this was much more stripped. Not that David minded.

“You’re welcome.” He finished up with his clothes and there was a gravid moment of silence, they both looked at each other in a way that made David’s heart feel light.

“Um, so,” Patrick cleared his throat, seeming to come out of a fog. “I need to give you this.” He handed David the contract he said he’d email. “The computer system was messed up so...” 

David grabbed it, nodding. “Okay…” he responded, pulling his smile in. 

“And I have one more thing—” 

From behind, Alexis walked through the door. “Patrick,” she gushed, not looking nearly as sweaty as she should for a workout. 

Immediately, the warm tension that was bubbling between them broke with a chilly rush, and David had to hold back his chagrin in an attempt to seem indifferent. 

“Hello, Alexis,” Patrick turned, but his body language showed that he might be feeling the same way as David.

“What brings you out of hiding?” She booped his nose and David grimaced a little at her.

“Had to bring David his paperwork, and I hope you did yours too.” 

“Ugh,” she pinched her earlobes, throwing her head back. “Why do I have to fill it out _ every time_?” 

“So we don’t have to arrest you,” he retorted; Alexis groaned. “Which brings me back to you, David—” 

“Hmm?” He looked up from the contract and back into those eyes. 

“You don’t have a valid driver’s license. You’re gonna need to test at the station this week. There’s a lot of things we can cut a deal for, but not having a valid form of identification isn’t one of them— we need it updated for your file.” 

“Okay, but I don’t drive anywhere, though. I have a driver for that.” 

“And given your record, that’s probably a good thing—” 

“Oh, burn, David,” Alexis chimed. 

“But I still need you to get one.” 

David liked the way Patrick so easily roasted him, it made his smirk squirm to the side of his face. “Fine!” he relented. 

“Great, and I’ll let you know about the agent tomorrow.”

“Is it not you, then?” Alexis asked a little confused, hands limply gesturing, and David wanted her to get murdered first if the situation presented itself this weekend. 

Patrick’s face reddened, his eyes went just slightly wide and somehow he managed to shrug without removing his hands from their burrow. “I don’t know, we’ll see. It’s not my job to decide.” 

“Oh, okay,” Alexis said playing with the tips of her hair. “It’s just that David thought—” 

“Alexis, don’t you have to take a shower?” David spat, trying not to completely lose it in front of Patrick. “It seems the natural deodorant has failed you again.” 

“Ew, stop, David!” she shrieked, collecting her pajamas from a drawer and grabbing some product.

“I should go,” Patrick excused himself, attempting to conceal a grin. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.” David held his gaze for a beat longer before he walked out.

The door closed behind him and the room hung in silence for a moment. Alexis’s mouth was open as she gave David a knowing glance.

“_What? _” 

Alexis indicated a perfect symbol with her fingers and gave him a little wink. 

“What does that mean? Wh— What are you doing?”

“It means I think he’s into you, and you better not screw it up!” And with that, Alexis was off to the bathroom. 

“Okay,” David said dismissively, rolling his eyes.

He knew what he would dream about tonight, and he couldn’t wait to fall asleep. 

_A Little Bit Alexis _

_ Alexis trotted out the room, heading to the gym. Knowing she was going to be literally tied up for three days, she wanted to get a good work out in to make up for the time she couldn’t be active. As the elevator doors opened to the bottom floor, she saw Brody Vincent, one of Twahid’s friends, but like, one of his shady friends. Okay, honestly, Alexis didn’t think it was Twahid who was running this diamond slash drug ring, or whatever it was. He was too much of a sweet little boop to be capable, and not like a fake sweet boop. He was like Ted, the guy who takes care of the K-9 unit, Twahid was genuinely nice. _

_ Deciding the opportunity was given to her to pursue, she followed Brody. She stuck her headphones in her ears but didn't play the music, just pantomimed the act. Brody didn’t say a word, just reached for his phone and answered a text. When he went into the pool room which was completely empty, Alexis knew it would look suspicious if she followed, so she headed into the gym. _

_ The rooms were right next to each other, connected by a glass wall— if she hopped on the treadmill she could see into the pool room— so it was a win. The only thing was she couldn't hear anything. Looking around, she tried to come up with a plan. When she saw the towels stacked on a shelf next to the diving board, she had an idea. With her headphones still secured in her ears, she walked into the pool room and made her way over to the shelf, giving a flirty wave when he glanced at her. She grabbed a towel, exaggerating wiping sweat that hadn’t even formed yet. While she did, Alexis discreetly put her phone on silent and opened up the voice memo app. With her back to Brody, she unplugged her phone from the headphones and tucked it into the folds of one of the towels in the pile until it was seemingly hidden but not obstructing the speaker. Then she placed the towel she had wiped her forehead with in her hand to hide the fact that she didn’t have a phone anymore. She headed back into the gym, smirking to herself. _


	3. Handler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick needs to make a case for partnering with David to the chief. Personal and professional lines muddle as David and Patrick plan for the operation. Alexis continues to quietly investigate her own hunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very informational heavy and feels a little clunky to me. So I'm sorry in advance if this is more boring than the last chapter. But I promise the next one picks up a lot more, and we see the action part of this takeoff.

When David walked into Patrick’s office yesterday, his entire world shifted. Like that’s who he’s been waiting for all this time. He loved how David captivated him, how intrigued he was— beyond measure. David came in like a tidal wave and Patrick let it wash over him. He can’t remember a time when it’s ever happened before; when the static in his heart turned into sharp understanding, making sense of the white noise. 

He tried not to think about it, just act on it_ . _It’s what drew him to the hotel last night to see David again, a magnetic pull he wasn’t fighting anymore. When he saw him, tired, a little irritable, with his face softening around its beautiful edges, Patrick’s heart clamped. He liked both versions of David, the abrasion and the warmth. David seemed dynamic, he was enigmatic in a way that enraptured Patrick; he saw the layers to him and wanted to know them.

He had found other men attractive before, thought they had nice arms or jawlines, or got lost in the way they read on trains or walked around the office, but David did something none of them could. David made Patrick want to cross the line he’d drawn in the sand for himself, the one he’s always been afraid to even get close to. To expose himself so completely, when he himself has wrestled for so long with what he wants. But he couldn’t stop himself from surrendering a little bit of the fight for David (for himself as well, he thought.) 

With his head to toe black attire, expressive hands, and unyieldingly boldness, David left an impression on Patrick. The case was important and he didn’t really like to muddle personal matters with work, but he was confident enough in his work ethic to know balancing the two would be possible— he hoped. 

Nervously, Patrick approached the chief’s office: clammy hands, racing heart, shaking breath— the works. There were plenty of reasons to be anxious. For starters, Patrick hasn’t gone undercover since becoming Alexis’s handler. Then there was Ronnie to consider, he knew she was gonna fight him on it and it’s the last thing he needed. Then the fear; he was afraid chief would outwardly dismiss it, for a plethora of his own reasons. And getting a no would mean not spending the time with David, and he really wanted to spend time with David. Skewed reasoning, messed up even, but true. Lastly— and possibly the biggest reason of all— the chief was none other than his father, Clint Brewer. 

He knocked on the door and watched his dad wave him in through the glass, ear pressed to a phone that was pinched between his shoulder and head. Patrick entered quietly and took a seat. “Okay, hon— yes, I hear ya. I have to go, our son’s here— I will, ahuh. Love you too, sweetheart.” Clint looked at Patrick expectantly, holding out the phone and gesturing to it. 

“Love you, mom,” he said. 

He put the phone back to his ear. “Did you hear him? Yep— okay— always— bye, honey.” He hung up, signed a paper in front of him and stuck it in the outgoing pile on his desk. “Okay, what can I do for you, son?”

It took Patrick everything in his power not to fidget with his hands or bob his knee— the knee bob would be a dead giveaway. “Umm, the Karim case,” Patrick began, feeling the nerves take over his stomach and stretch out to the tips of his fingers. “David Rose has agreed to take an agent with him.” Patrick took a breath, trying to untangle the tension in his chest.

“That's great,” Clint nodded. “I’ll get Ronnie in here—”

“I was actually hoping to go.” He didn’t mean for his voice to pitch up like it did, to sound so desperate. “I know Alexis so well— and David has never done something like this and— and since Alexis will be inside, too, I just thought it would make sense as their appointed handler if I went in.” It was a bit rambly, came out a little rushed; Clint noticed.

He didn’t say anything for a beat, studying Patrick like he did in high school when Patrick told him he wouldn’t be trying out for the baseball team. Eventually, ever the agent, Clint realized that Patrick didn’t want to play because he and Blake Tobin had clashed horribly over a multitude of things, and Patrick couldn’t bear to be in the same room with him, let alone the same team. He was never a fighter, never confrontational, so he stepped out for the season. Besides, Blake was a senior and Patrick was a sophomore, he had the following year to play. When Patrick told his dad he was going to do math leagues instead, Clint didn’t argue, only told him that he thought the math leagues would win more tournaments than the baseball team would win games that year. Not once did he mention Blake, but he knew. Patrick saw it in his small smile when he said it. Clint always found the red string that connected the dots. Well, not always, but mostly.

“Your mother wants to know why you’re not answering Rachel’s messages. She ran into her at the grocery store today.” Speaking of baseball, what a curveball.

“Um, well, the case has been stressful. Then there's the time difference and stuff. Nothing’s really aligned."

Clint may not know everything there is to know about Patrick, but he knows that when Patrick's overwhelmed he throws himself into work. Patrick wished like hell that he _ did _ know everything, though, that both of his parents did. Knew him well enough to see what he can’t say— what’s been lodged in his throat like an anvil. He wished they would take the burden from him and say _ we see you’re not happy, go find your happy _. But they don’t. And it’s not their fault, of course. He couldn’t have asked for better parents, they’re kind and hardworking and nurturing— it’s why they care so much about what happens with him and Rachel. They think she makes him happy because he’s a good actor, he followed the script he was supposed to because it felt like his job, and he always throws himself into work when he’s overwhelmed.

After a moment of contemplation, Clint picked up a file on his desk, opened it and signed the paper executing Patrick as the undercover agent for the Twahid Karim case. “I think you need this,” he told Patrick with a nod.

Thankful, Patrick’s shoulders relaxed before he even knew they were raised up to his ears. He knew his father was saying he sees the pleading behind his eyes. This is how they worked, little words but a thread of quiet understanding between them. They’re Irish men, for crying out loud, they aren’t wired to discuss anything deeper than a puddle, but it doesn’t mean they don’t speak in a different language. Work was their love language. 

“Thank you, dad,” Patrick said sincerely. 

“It’s Chief at work,” Clint said, half-joking. “And you’re welcome. I’ll tell your mother to ease off the Rachel thing.” 

“She hasn’t really said anything,” it surprised Patrick. 

“There’s a voicemail waiting for you.” His dad had the fond smile he always wore when he thought about his wife, something Patrick always wanted. His mom meddled with good intention and fussed with care, she talks through movies and always gets carried away with plans and vacations, but his dad just smiles through it. Standing solidly next to her, and every so often offering a soothing hand to calm her sea. Patrick wanted that. 

Patrick laughed, shaking his head. “Ya know, I was thinking last night that she’s been entirely too quiet about it.”

“She was building her case,” Clint returned, tapping a stack of papers on his desk to straighten them out. 

“Speaking of cases,” Patrick looped back around, feeling uncomfortable about all the things his mother didn’t know. “Am I good to start the background building today? David is taking his driver's test with Ray right now, but when he’s done I was thinking about starting the process.” 

“Of course,” Clint nodded. 

Patrick was acutely aware that Clint hadn’t said a thing about him going undercover as a gay man, it warmed something in his chest. 

“I’ll write you out for the week so you can acclimate David to everything. And in the meantime, Jocelyn will take over with Alexis.” 

Standing up, Patrick nodded, casting his smile down so his dad wouldn’t see how happy he was, relieved. “Thanks, Chief,” he said as he walked out. 

“That’s dad to you!”

*

After lunch, Alexis came bustling through the door and Patrick was semi surprised to see her. He knew when they were on location, she often hung around the team more than what was entirely necessary; he boiled it down to Ted, the K-9 trainer. But this time was different, she didn’t seem like she wanted to be around her friends from her real-life— other life. The lines were blurring for him on whether or not the FBI was her other life or her new life. 

She was, without a shadow of a doubt, the most competent asset he had ever had. From her extensive contacts, to her skill set, to her willingness to learn; across the board, she had been an exemplary informant. Sure, she was scatty from time to time, sometimes even dangerously indifferent, but she adapted to this life better than Patrick had seen anyone do it. It was actually scary, how smoothly she did it. Often he thought that Alexis found her people when the FBI found her. 

“What can I do for you, Alexis?” Patrick was just filling up his bag with the things he’d need with David to start the undercover process. 

She hung on the doorframe, dangling halfway in. “I was just wondering if I’m _ technically _ an asset at the moment, or not until I hand in that paper thing?” she asked, squinting a bit.

“Uh, technically you’re not anything until you fill out the paperwork, which you should have done last night.” 

“No, I know, and I’m going to do it," she swore. "I just had to do a mask last night then after I washed it off I was so tired.” She shrugged limply forward, words a bit whiny. “So I’m, like, not on anyone's radar right now?" She pressed into the air with her fingertips pointed downward.

“Again, _ technically_, no. You're a regular citizen until you sign the paper,” Patrick explained. “But I have to tell you that you're _ not _ under the protection of the FBI until those forms are signed and filed.” 

“Okay!” she said merrily, popping herself up to her full height; Patrick always thought Alexis moved like a puppet on strings. “Well, I am gonna go then, and I will be back with those papers,” she said, hips moving with her words. 

“Actually, for the time being, you’re Jocelyn's asset," Patrick told her. "So bring everything to her." 

“Okay," she said compliantly, about to swing out of the doorway but halted herself. "Oh, and there’s a good chance David failed his exam today. Poor thing has test anxiety,” she frowned. “So if you need to find a replacement date, I can ask Countess Millicent if she still needs someone to go with her,” Alexis offered. “She’s, like, seventy-three, but I hear she’s of sound mind.” 

“Thank you, Alexis, for the concern, but Ray already told me he passed,” Patrick smiled, he never did know what would come out of her mouth. 

“Oh, okay!” She had a small smile of pride hidden behind her everyday charm. “Well, tell him to be more careful of parked buses in the future, then,” And with that, Alexis was gone. Patrick saw that in David’s driving record and did make a mental note to ask.

Getting back to his work, he shoved some more files in his bag. It wasn’t conventional, nor did he know if it was professional, but Patrick decided to have the meeting with David outside of the office, in the hotel restaurant. The hotel staff knew they were accommodating the FBI. After a series of NDAs and staff list approvals, The Ritz Carlton Dubai had agreed to safe house the operation. So when Patrick called saying he needed the restaurant cleared for lunch, they had no choice but to comply. Plus, David made it clear on how he operated without food, and Patrick wasn’t about to deprive the man of what he loves. 

There was a soft tap on the door, even though it was open. Patrick turned his head from where he was focused on a filing cabinet. “Hi,” David said gently. 

“Hey,” Patrick's mouth cracked open into a smile, a reaction he couldn’t quell around David. 

“So I passed,” David held up his license, a smirk on his lips.

“I heard." He wondered if David knew he only reacted like this to him; that when he just came through the door Patrick’s heart began to race and his stomach ignited with a verve he couldn’t contain. "How long did Ray talk about what clubs he’s been going to on his time off?” 

“Oh, a _ very _long time,” David responded. 

David was so easily attractive, Patrick didn’t have to find the bits and pieces to focus on as he had in the past with other men. With David, he took in the whole of him. And the longer he spent around him, the more the invisible things became too compelling to ignore as well. That’s what it was, Patrick thought, David had everything he didn’t know he was looking for. For the longest time, Patrick felt like a puzzle with the pieces scattered across the floor, not knowing how to make them all fit, how to feel put together in a way that made sense to him. Then David walked through the door and Patrick felt his heart say: _ look there it is, you found it. _ Half his life he waited for Rachel to do that, to be that person. He wanted to walk through the door one day and see her and think: _ there it is, you have it_. But the voice never came, no matter how hard he tried to force it. Then David walked in and it was kinetic. It fit. David made every piece fit. 

“So, I found out who your agent will be,” he began, liking the hopeful look that made itself apparent on David’s face.

“Oh?” David’s lips folded in and his eyebrows arch as he came all the way into the office.

“Yeah, he’s like this hyper capable, unassumingly sexy agent, who’s very good at his job and makes one hell of a seven and seven,” Patrick told him. 

“So, no one in here then,” David whirled his hands in front of him, looking around the room playfully.

“No, it’s Ray,” Patrick deadpanned and David’s entire face fell. “I'm kidding,” he felt the smile on his face reach up to his eyes, shaking his head. “It’s me.” 

The look on David’s face morphed slowly but deeply into relief and it made Patrick's chest swell. “So, we have a lot of work to do before Friday. I have to get a whole new identity, we have to go over a lot of paperwork and undercover etiquette, get acquainted enough to pass as people who know each other, and God willing if we’re good at it, more than that.” He wondered if he showed his hand, if David could tell there was some truth in there.

“Okay,” David nodded, a little overwhelmed. “Quick question,” he pointed to an invisible thought in the air. “Alexis said you don’t normally go out into the field so I was wondering if you’re, like, okay enough to do that?”

“I think I can handle it,” Patrick assure him.

“I just mean that I’m not the easiest person to be around— nor do I do well under pressure or with group work.” 

“Well, I appreciate the head’s up, but David, it’s gonna be fine."

“Okay,” he nodded. 

“Is there anything else I should know before we begin?” Patrick asked. 

“Um, yes,” David said hesitantly and closed the door. “_ This_,” he pointed to the suit hanging on the back of the door. “Is _ absolutely not _going to be coming undercover with us,” he stressed. Patrick opened his grin up and it spread across the room, seeming to infect David who returned one, even though he wanted to keep up his act of personal offense towards his work suit. 

“Noted,” Patrick nodded. 

“Okay, but I’m being serious and not in the way you think,” David explained, talking with his fingers pinched in front of him. “I don’t think you know what you’re stepping into, and if you don’t want to be made in like two seconds you have to play the part. And a suit from Men’s Wearhouse _ is not the part_.”

There were things like this to consider when going undercover. Of course, you had to blend in, but he had never had to blend in on such a ritzy budget, so David made a point. “Okay, well I’ll let you handle all that stuff and I’ll worry about the rest.” 

“Oh, thank God!” David all but collapsed into relief and pulled his phone out.

“Who are you calling?”

“Tom Ford,” he said, with the phone already pressed to his ear. “Hi, Charice, it’s David Rose— I’m great, how are you?” 

“David,” Patrick muttered and David held up a finger. 

“That sounds fun— so listen I need a suit by Friday, two actually. For Twahid Karim’s event. — okay, I don’t know why everyone keeps saying that,” he grimaced. “But both me and Alexis will be attending— _ no, _ I’m not her date! — Okay, yes— One in my size, Hernand knows my measurements. I’d like the Silk Shelton suit, with the Gold Leopard Atticus Jacket _ and _ the Burgundy Velvet Atticus Jacket; I’m still oscillating between the two and need options— ya know what? Throw the Smoke Swirl Atticus in there, too. Then for the other suit: jacket _ siiiize _ ,” David eyed Patrick and he mouthed _ 36\. _“Size 34 regular, but maybe leave a breath of room in the shoulders—” Patrick concealed his smile. “34 waist, inseam unknown, but he’s about three inches shorter than me, mostly in the leg—” 

“More like two, but okay,” Patrick muttered, David shot his a pointed stare of doubt.

“I want the Navy Twill O’Connor tuxedo, but in oxford blue instead of navy— keep the black lapels, though. Black tie, with a white shirt in size medium. Throw in a—” David glanced at Patrick’s feet, “size eleven shoe from the 2018 fall collection, and I think that’s it!" He had said it all in one breath and Patrick was impressed, to say the least. “No, thank _ you_, Charice! Yes— ahuh— I’m at the Ritz Carlton if you could tell Jean-Francis to bring them there by Thursday that’d be great. Thankssomuch!” David hung up and looked pleased with himself. 

“You said that like you were ordering a pizza.” 

“You should see me order a pizza, far more detailed with a much more thrilling outcome.” Patrick laughed, watching David’s reaction to it. 

“Okay, well speaking of food, we should go get some; we have a lot of work to do.” Patrick secured his bag to his shoulder. “And I’ll drive, who knows how many busses are out and about today.” He headed towards the door.

“Okay!” David peaked, following Patrick out the door. “There were no kids on it and that bus driver was not using back up signals!” he defended briskly.

“It was parked, David.”

** 

Patrick was probably more nervous than he let on— or maybe it was noticeable, he couldn’t tell. He didn't want to call this a date because it wasn’t. It was just he and David dining together in a completely empty restaurant, with only the waiter intermittently popping in and out. When David ordered a pizza at the fanciest eatery Patrick had ever stepped foot in, Patrick had to smile. 

It took them longer than expected to get to the case, and Patrick liked that. David talked about his mother— who Patrick remotely knew, having a mother himself who watched Sunrise Bay on and off for six years. Then his dad, about how if Johnny knew what he and Alexis were up to he’d blow a casket— some out of concern but primarily out of shock. He talked about how he and Alexis play the stereotypical roles of mama’s boy and daddy’s girl, but in a very unconventional way— that remark made Patrick laugh a little. He talked a little bit about his friend Stevie, who he was in the process of deciding whether or not she was his best friend, but he thought she was. Then he went on to say that while he and his family aren’t that close, he sometimes wonders what it would be like if they were. 

Patrick listened intently, reveling in the way David spoke in peaks in valleys. Underneath the obvious crude layer David wore like armor was a charming man that Patrick would want to come back to again and again; fill up on all his stories and marvel at the way he can elicit such a deep rumbling in him with only the smile on his face— with his sharp features, long legs, and strong hands. 

“Okay, well that was a lot over a pizza.” David ended a story about Sebastian that made Patrick want to arrest him, even though technically he didn’t commit a crime. Unless you call leaving David in the middle of a vacation to meet with his _ other _ boyfriend a crime.

“It’s fine, we’re supposed to be getting to know each other. And while my stories aren’t nearly as thrilling, you’ll have to sit through them too.” 

“Hopefully yours don’t involve so much humiliation,” David remarked. “Actually, I’m kinda hoping they do,” he decided, calculating how much of himself he just gave away. 

Patrick's lips quirked up. “Well, in that case, you’ll be very pleased once we get to my first sleepover experience in the third grade.” 

“Can’t wait for that!” David said, both sarcastically but genuinely— a juxtaposition that could only work on one man, Patrick thought. 

“I think for now, though, we should get into everything you can expect from being undercover, just the operational things, like the wires and phone taps and everything.” 

“Okay,” David nodded.

Patrick dove right in, talking schematics. Told David about Jocelyn and Ronnie, how they’d be in a nearby van able to communicate with David and himself, but that Alexis will only be wired and not have an earpiece; they’d feed any information Alexis acquires to them through their earpieces. He showed him the tiny cameras they’d have to place throughout the estate, and how they work; he made a point to mention that the bathroom would be the only privacy he’d have while there— having heard a story about David being unsolicitedly videotaped in the past, Patrick felt it was important to let David know his privacy was considered and to be transparent about where he would and wouldn’t have it. Then it was on to the debriefs, which he skimmed over and told him to ask Alexis about. He got through all the technical information about how exactly they would wire him (Patrick ignored his own thoughts about him wanting to be the one to slide the mic up under David’s shirt, to feel how his fingertips would react to his skin), how to operate the earpiece, and that he’d actually have to wear a vest under his shirt— a bulletproof one. Patrick watched his breathing, noticing it was picking up.

“Are you okay so far? Is this too much?”

“No— I mean, yes it is, generally speaking,” he took a breath. “But it’s nice knowing I’m doing it with you,” he said timidly. “I keep reminding myself of that— that you know what you’re doing.”

Patrick cast down his smile, afraid he would give too much of himself away before looking back up. “And I promise you it sounds worse than it is. I actually know for a fact that you’ve been at a party with undercover agents present and you were none the wiser,” Patrick explained. “Everything was contained and nobody was harmed.”

“Oh, my God what party?!” 

“New Years, 2014.”

David’s face fell into slight recognition. “Ya know what, that adds up.” 

“If you’re feeling ready, we can move onto the case specifics. If not, I’m happy to sit here and answer any questions you have about any of the stuff we just went over.” Patrick would sit and talk to him about anything, for as long as he wanted.

David let out a small breath, splaying his hands out in front of him in a way that indicated he was clearing his mental space; Patrick liked the way he stacked the rings on his fingers. “I think I’m good.”

“Okay, great.” Patrick nodded. “So, I don’t know what Alexis has told you, but there are a lot of moving parts to this case,” Patrick began. 

“Okay,” David became more attentive, leaning forward with his hand holding up his chin, eyes concentrated; Patrick wanted to stare at the way all his features settled, but he pressed on.

“A few months ago—” he opened a folder and turned it around towards David. “We had Alexis get held up in Monaco with Prince Albert the second. While she was there she discovered there was a trade deal— crown jewels in exchange for heroin and cocaine.”

“Okay…” David said slowly, processing, while Patrick pulled out a picture of various rare diamonds and jewels: tiaras, rings, necklaces. 

“Seems easy enough, right?” Patrick didn’t let him answer but pulled out another picture of identical jewels and diamonds. “But you would think if crown jewels went missing, we’d hear about it. It would make headline news, but we didn’t. So what does that mean?” 

“Okay, am I supposed to be solving this case or is that still your job?” David asked with his chin cocked to the left, hands circling above the photos. 

“I’m getting to it,” Patrick said, breathy with enjoyment. “These—” he pointed to the ones in the picture on the left, “are fake. These—" he pointed to the other picture, "are the real family jewels of Monaco—”

“Okay, I’ve seen the family jewels of Monaco and they looked _ much _ different,” David commented, unable to help himself, Patrick could tell.

“Funny, Alexis said the same thing,” he said it just get this reaction— 

“Eww-ah!” out of David, cringing at the thought of him and Alexis sleeping with the same person. He glared at Patrick then swiped the picture up, inspecting it. “So, Twahid is selling heroin and cocaine and getting paid in diamonds, then giving the buyer replicated jewels so the monarchy of said jewels is none the wiser. He walks away with, like, a _ gazillion _ dollars worth of diamonds— that I’m assuming he basically scraps for parts, resetting the diamonds into new pieces or selling them loosely?” 

Patrick was stunned, or something like that. “I shouldn’t be this impressed, but I am,” Patrick admitted. And turned on...which was new but not unwelcome; he minorly squirmed in his seat, allowing the feeling to settle. 

“Thanks, I watch a lot of crime dramas and I love the Oceans’ franchise,” he said proudly.

“Well, it shows,” Patrick couldn’t stop watching the way David spoke, how his mouth moves and his body speaks along with his words; mostly his lips though, he watched them closely. “And he also gets a hefty kickback from the drugs,” Patrick went on, determined to focus. “So, he’s making money from the diamonds and a percentage from the drugs.”

“Who is he facilitating these deals with, and through?” David asked.

“That’s what we need to find out. Alexis was able to find out that in the last eighteen months Twahid secured the jewels from no less than five royal families. We were able to make a trail pretty easily, based on all the events he’s done with different monarchs, through the press and things like that,” Patrick explained. "Alexis then went in, getting invited to some of the events and found the vaults and confirmed what was in those rooms were fakes."

“Okay, but who’s giving him all the real jewels? Does every royal family have a person who wants to buy drugs and can get their hands in the royal vault? Seems a bit convenient.” 

Patrick rubbed his hands down his thigh, squeezing them. He wished David wouldn’t do this to him, turn him inside out with a few intellectual sentences, but here he is. He sighed, gathering himself. “We haven’t gotten that far. We probably won’t have that information until we arrest Twahid Karim this weekend. People like Twahid, with a reputation to uphold, tend to be easy to crack. Once we have him, the whole thing will come together.”

"Okay," David said dismissively. "So, Alexis just went into these locked rooms and was able to tell these jewels were fake but the family can't?"

"Well, she was trained with a jeweler and authenticator. And only a few people in the inner circles of these families know. Considering that someone from the inside of these families might be facilitating diamond heists and drug trades, we have to keep it contained." 

"Does Liz know?" David wondered, in a gossipy kind of way. 

"No," Patrick responded with a slight smile at how David referred to the Queen of England as Liz. "_Liz _ has been spared of this hardship, and all her jewelry remains untouched."

“Thank God," David signed.

“Any other questions?” 

“Yes, what’s my job in all this?”

“Well, your job was to get me into the party so your work here is kind of done,” he said. "And well, I guess the clothes too, which you've taken care of."

"Hm," David nodded. “Then what’s your job?” he reworded, Patrick actually thought he looked adorable. 

“I have to find the drugs— if he even has any there. Then, of course, find his contacts and try to flush out who's selling all these drugs,” he explained. “I have a general idea of where the jewels are and that’s where Alexis will be.”

“You’re expecting my sister to secure the most valuable jewelry in the world and _not_ snag a piece?” 

“I’ve planned for that," he revealed, smirking. 

“Okay, but have you planned for _ me _ snagging a piece?” he asked, unashamed that he’d try, lips curling over his teeth as he held back his smile. 

“Oh, I got a lotta plans for you.” Patrick could tell by the way it came out that he was implying something, and he meant to. At least he didn’t care that he did once he saw David’s reaction from across the table. 

His chest expanded and his mouth fell open, cheeks turning red as he sputtered a bit. And Patrick thought if he could make a career out of rendering David Rose speechless, he would. 

“Oh, okay,” David let out in a breathy whisper that made Patrick’s insides flare. He lingered in David’s reaction longer than was fair, relishing a bit. He wanted to see it again under different circumstances. Much different. Blood rushed between his legs at the thought. 

“So next thing,” he finally said, relieving David and himself. “Whatever you can tell me about the layout of the estate, or what we should expect when we get there, will be really helpful,” Patrick went on. “It’s important that I blend in as—” he pulled a piece of paper from the folder Ray had given him, “Patrick Bricker, investment baker.” 

“Isn’t that a little too close to your own name, won’t they figure it out?” David seemed worried, or maybe it was just his anxiety, either way, Patrick liked the way he cared.

“I have a common enough name that I can use it in the field, it makes it easier for the person working with me, too.” 

“Okay, well, I’ve only been there a handful of times. I don’t really know the lay of the land that well, but I can tell you that Twahid has some of the best bed linens I’ve ever had the pleasure of laying on,” David gushed. 

“Hold on, let me write this down,” Patrick loved that David couldn’t immediately tell that he was teasing him as he got out his notepad. “Cozy beds— anything else?” 

“Okay,” David glared harmlessly. “What’s next?” David asked. 

As much as Patrick wanted to stay here and keep talking with David, he had to pull himself away. The coil in his stomach was about to leap into his throat. “We covered a lot of ground today, we can take a break and meet again tomorrow. I still have to check in here and get settled.” 

“Oh, of course. I didn’t realize you were staying here as well,” David looked flustered. 

“Kinda have to if my asset is here,” Patrick responded. It was true, chief always made him stay close to his assets, but this time it felt a little different. 

“Right,” David looked down briefly. “Well, then I will let you get to that. I have a mask waiting for me in my room anyway,” he shuffled out the booth. 

“Have a good night, David” Patrick said, gathering his files. 

“You too,” David smiled small. 

Patrick watched him walk away—it was too typical. But David had legs that Patrick couldn’t tear his eyes away from, long and lean with pants that hugged him just right. When David escaped out of the room, Patrick shook his head a bit and collected his things. This would be a long weekend. 

**

The next day he went into the office, feeling slightly guilty that he told David they’d meet today but it wasn’t looking likely. The days leading up to the weekend ticked by quickly and Patrick still had a lot to do. Focusing had been tricky the past few days, and while he’d love it if David swooped through his door again, he really needed to process the last of the paperwork before Friday. He settled into his desk and opened his laptop. 

“Patrick?” His dad knocked on the door, briefcase in hand. 

“Yeah?” 

“Got this,” he held up the briefcase that had all the wires and earpieces in it, and placed it on the floor. 

“Thanks,” he said passively, looking at his laptop. 

“So, I met David,” Clint said and Patrick felt a heat rush down his spine and start boiling in his stomach. “After knowing Alexis, I gotta say, he was not what I was expecting,” he admitted. 

“Yeah, I made the same mistake.” 

“Not a mistake,” Clint rebutted quickly. “He seems a lot more responsible than Alexis,” he went on thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’ll have to worry as much about this particular Rose in the garden.” 

“Hopefully,” was all Patrick could manage. “What, uh, what was he doing here anyway?” 

“Oh, it was brought to my attention that he spent an astronomical amount of money on clothes for you. The bureau needed the receipts for it so he can get a payout— not that he needs it, but procedure.” 

“Oh.” 

“And hey, didn’t I write you out of desk work for the week?” he asked, mock sternness coating his words. 

“Just finishing up,” Patrick's shoulders pinched up, he didn’t know why he couldn’t relax— as if there was a billboard behind him that said: _ I’m gay...for David. _

“Alright, well don’t keep David waiting too long,” Clint said. “He’s a good guy to do this for us and we should respect his time.” Clint was always a stickler for respecting the people who allotted themselves like this for them. The whole unit, actually, was known for their ethics and compassion— it was few and far between to get a government agency that was reared in such high regard, and a lot of it had to do with how Clint ran things. 

“Yep.” 

Nodding, Clint turned to head out the door, stopping to look back at him. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

_ Tell him. Just say it. Now. It’s fine. _ “Yeah, I’m good.” 

“Alright,” his dad said before heading out. 

**

Two days later, Patrick was in his hotel room preparing for the weekend. Since meeting David he found it more and more difficult to be alone. He never minded it before, the solitude. He liked a quiet space, a white wall state of mind when he was alone. At least he thought he did until David filled his life with noise and splattered vibrant colors on the wall. Something opened up inside him; he wasn’t a particularly closed off person but reserved, and he didn't want to be reserved anymore, not with David at least. 

The other day when they were sitting across from each other at lunch, it felt too easy, too natural. He wanted to reach out to him or slide into the booth next him, but he held back. Maintaining a professional boundary was important but so was his happiness. David made him happy. 

His mind often wandered to David’s hands, those four rings glinting as he spoke. Last night he lost sleep over those hands, wondering what they’d feel like on his skin, how they’d touch him and what they’d find out. It all felt a little absurd and juvenile, having a crush so strong it could break him in half. He's never felt like this before about anyone, it was all consuming. Being a grown adult male experiencing it for the first time felt both special and ridiculous. The rush was thrilling, the reality was crippling. He was old enough to appreciate it, mature enough to understand it, and smart enough to know this feeling doesn’t come by often. 

At the thought, David text him:

**[10:16pm] your clothes are here, do you want me to bring them to you or can you come to me? **

_ [10:17pm] I can come over there. _

**[10:19] Okay, you should know that alexis is with stavros which means I have this room to myself and I’m taking advantage of it by eating cupcakes in bed while watching Notting Hill, and I’d like you not to mention this to another soul.**

_ [10:20] Consider it a state secret. _

Patrick leaned over to close his laptop when the date caught his eye— today’s date. Today was _ something _. He shut the laptop and shuffled through some papers, finding David’s NDA, skimming it. Today was David’s birthday. It’s David’s birthday week and he’s spending it being a government informant, pent up in a hotel. Guilt washed over Patrick. It wasn’t his fault but it felt like his responsibility to make it right. He didn’t bother changing into regular clothes— if what David just said had indicated anything it was that he’s probably in pajamas, so Patrick felt showing up in sweatpants and a white t-shirt was acceptable; he threw on a zip-up sweatshirt and headed over. 

He knocked on the door, stomach sparking in every direction. When David cracked it open, he might have looked tepid, a bit shy. “Hi,” he said. 

“Hey,” Patrick returned. 

David was, in fact, wearing sweatpants, if he could call them that, with a white shirt that said _ DON’T _ on it. Patrick wondered if he stared too long, too fondly. David’s arms had been hidden until this moment, and Patrick couldn’t stop himself from looking at them, admiring them. Tan and strong and looking very capable of all the things Patrick had envisioned David doing to him. 

"Welcome," David opened the door all the way, revealing a bed filled with shopping bags. Off in the corner of the room there were a few garment bags hanging on a rack.

"That's...a lot of clothes, David." 

"Okay, don't panic.” He flew into recovery mode, heading to the bed. “It just looks like a lot because my personal shopper only likes putting two items in a bag at a time," he explained, condensing things as he spoke.

“I thought you only got me a suit.” 

David’s face shrank a bit, but he looked pleased with himself while feigning his guilt. “Okay, listen, you told me to handle your clothes! I was just doing my job. And I actually called back and got another suit.”

Patrick tucked in his smile, watching David’s dramatics unfold like a flourishing lyric. 

“And I want to make it known that what I’m about to say is not a jab towards you, because I surprisingly think you look very dashing in the outfits I’ve seen so far— including this night time get-up,” David prefaced; Patrick was surprised to hear David say so, it made him middle pinch together. “But the other day, while you were talking to me about all those wires and debriefs, I was ordering you clothes,” he smiled innocently, trying to fake a frown that was missing the mark.

“What? What’s wrong with my clothes?”

"Nothing! I got you the exact same clothes you have, just a more expensive version,” he swore. “These people know luxury. If you walked in there with your Target shirt on, they’d know… I don’t want you getting _ gunned down _for wearing synthetic fabrics. There are much better things to die over,” he said with flair, attempting to cover up the fact that he might actually care what happens to Patrick. 

“Well, I appreciate that, thank you.” 

"You’re welcome," David smiled. "I mean, I thought your dad was gonna arrest me when he saw the charges but it worked out." He had gotten everything condensed into four bags and cleared the rest off of Alexis’s bed.

"Yeah," Patrick's stomach twisted. "Um, so, I hope this is okay, and I don't mean to intrude on your night. But before heading over here I put together that it's your birthday, so happy birthday..." David's whole face transformed, his body relaxing into genuine gratitude that Patrick was becoming addicted to, eyes softening; he was beautiful. 

"Um, you're actually the only person who's said that to me today which makes you a better fake friend than any of my real ones...so, thank you." 

"We can be real friends, David." David's smirk traveled to the side of his face and Patrick wanted to reach out right then and there and kiss him. A feeling so strong he thought he’d combust under the pressure of it 

"I'd like that." 

Patrick took a breath in order to calm the current ravaging his insides. "So, as your friend, and fake boyfriend—" that was the first time he's said it and he liked the way it sounded, maybe too much. "For your birthday, I present to you: the third-grade sleepover story." This would be mortifying but worth it to see David's face. 

"Hold on!" David shot a finger up. He grabbed the remote quickly and turned the movie off and gestured for Patrick to take a seat at the table that housed the box of cupcakes he had. "Okay, I want you to know that this is a safe space,” he swirled his hands gesturing to their surroundings. “So I will_ try _ not to laugh at anything I hear," David promised-ish. 

"Thank you, your effort is appreciated." Patrick sat opposite him. He hated that every time they met there was an obstruction between them.

"Begin whenever you're ready," David said courteously, flourishing his hand out to indicate Patrick had the floor. 

"Well, it was my birthday. I was turning nine and my mom wanted to throw this elaborate baseball themed party; she talked to the field manager at the rec center and he told her she could use a field for the day—" 

"I would have _ 100% _declined that invitation." David interrupted and Patrick smiled, trying to picture David amiss a baseball field backdrop; something told him that even at nine, David wouldn’t have fit.

"Yeah well, probably for the best seeing as how it ended,” Patrick told him. David picked up a cupcake and peeled back the wrapper. "We never made it to the field because it rained and my mom wanted to do a rain check for the next weekend, but I wanted a party that day because my best friend Abby was leaving for vacation, and she wouldn't have been able to come the following weekend. And at the time, she was my only real friend." He's still friends with her but now she's mostly Rachel’s friend. 

"I was gonna say you sound bratty but I've _ purposefully _ broken my nose on my birthday to prove how wrong my dad was for getting me a basketball net, so I can't judge you." David licked the icing off the top of the cupcake and Patrick felt his legs react, blood rushing. 

"Uh, yeah, so," he cleared his throat. "So we moved the party to my house and my mom said it could be a sleepover. The rain had turned into a severe thunderstorm...and uh," the willpower Patrick was executing as he watched David lick icing off his fingers was award winning, and he hoped David couldn't see the red heat that crawled up his neck. "Which was, uh, terrible for me," he continued, swallowing the desire in his throat. "Because I got night terrors during thunderstorms as a kid. Which is exactly what happened." 

"No," David sympathized, eyes wide. 

"Yep, so not only did I wake up screaming, scaring everyone there— I ran into my parent's room crying, clinging to my mom, soaking wet with tears and everyone watched me acting like a toddler—" 

"I feel it's important to tell you that if this story ends with wetting your pants I won't be able to, like,_ physically _ handle it. I don't do well with second-hand embarrassment," David warned, finally done with his cupcake. 

"Oh no, that was my fifth birthday," Patrick joked, watching David imprint a smile into the air, into his heart. "That was basically it. It ran through the third grade like wildfire," he remembered. "Luckily, it was the end of the school year so my mom didn't make me go to the last four days.

"That's sweet," David commented. 

"Yeah, " Patrick nodded. “But when I got to fourth grade, I was known as cry baby Brewer for the first three months.” 

There was a beat between them and Patrick looked down at his hands in his lap— fingers carding together and twisted up. He could feel David’s stare on him and he was afraid to meet his gaze. 

"You've earned a cupcake," David said, nudging the box toward him.

"Thanks," Patrick picked one up and David reached for another. 

"Tell a soul you saw me eat three cupcakes in a row and I'll end your career," he warned. 

"You've only had two," Patrick noticed. 

"So far." 

Letting out a soft laugh, Patrick nodded then they cheered their cupcakes together.

"So now what do we do?" David asked. "About this case thing," he added hastily, cheeks reddening at his implication that it may have come off like David just wanted him to stay.

“Now we have to create a background story about us,” Patrick’s heart hiccupped when he said it— _ us_. A part of him wanted to ignore the thought that they might be in the middle of the background story of the future them. “Would it be believable for you to date someone like me?” Patrick asked as if it was a routine question like it was for the case, not the dossier he built in his mind on David Rose. 

“Ya know, if you asked me four days ago I would’ve said no,” David admitted, smile trying to come out of hiding. “But I think we can make it work,” he said, smile blooming and reaching his eyes.

Patrick’s stomach swooped. “Okay. So we can just say we met at a meeting for your gallery— that I was looking to invest in it," Patrick explained. 

"Yes, and that my intoxicating personality swept you off your feet," David exaggerated. 

"And my stability, charm, and easy good looks did it for you," Patrick returned. The conversation sliding into a dance they didn't know they were stepping into.

There was a beat between them and David looked around the room, to the bags on the bed, and then back to Patrick. An invigorating nervousness shot down Patrick's spine when he did. Soon his promise to himself to act on his feelings felt like it got caught in the air, suspended in front of him but out of reach. 

"Um," David started quietly. "I should help you bring this stuff up to your room…" He said slowly. His tone sounded like it fringed with hope, or something like it. “It’s getting late.”

"Don't worry about it, I can do it," Patrick's hands trembled. 

“Okay,” David nodded. 

They stood up and everything that built between them over the last week turned into the circuitry, taking up the space that stretched between them. Patrick knew he couldn’t kiss him— he wanted to, but he kept sputtering out, losing confidence, losing gall.

“Well, thank you for tonight,’” David said and there was a wishing in his eyes that made Patrick’s stomach squirm. “I was ready to pop a pill and cry myself to sleep before you showed up,” he admitted, self deprecating. “So…” 

“You’re welcome. And I’m sorry you’re here doing this on your birthday,” Patrick apologized. 

“This seems a lot more important than anything else I would have done.” 

Patrick couldn’t tell if they were talking about him or the case, or both. This was hard. Harder than he wanted to admit. “Okay,” was all he could say, looking down smiling. He walked over and grabbed the bags. “Goodnight, David.” 

David opened the door for him. “Goodnight, Patrick.” 

He should have kissed him. That’s the only thing he thought from the time he left David’s room till he woke up. 

_ A Little Bit Alexis _

_ When she left Patrick’s office, she hurried down the hallway. She had a very small window of time to get where she needed to go, without anyone tailing her. It’s not that she didn’t want to tell them about this, but she just felt like they’d hold her up— with the wires and the directions and the papers; she didn’t have time for it. When she got to the parking lot, she hopped into Ted’s car and started it up. Before taking off, she threw her hair up into a ponytail and put her aviators on then threw that puppy in drive. _

_ Brody Vincent was having a meeting with someone in fourteen minutes at one of his father’s jewelry showrooms. Did she have an exact plan on what she was going to do? No, she didn’t. Would it come together when she got there? Hopefully. Did Ted know she took his car? Absolutely not. So this had to be fast. _

_ Once she pulled onto the street the store was on, she saw Brody in the distance, parking his own car. She pulled up next to him. Luckily there was no paparazzi and he was using a private entrance. All she needed to know was who the meeting was with. When she listened back to the recording she took the other day, all she could make out was that Brody intended on trading something...for something. And not to be a self-proclaimed Harriet the Spy, but Alexis was sure that Brody was facilitating every deal behind Twahid’s back and that he was framing Twahid, _and_ that his father’s jewelry enterprise was, like, a front for a very established drug ring he’s operating. Which was, like, very bold of them— they dress some of the most famous people in the world with their diamonds! What if Angelina Jolie becomes an unbeknownst accomplice in all this? Alexis wouldn’t stand for it. _

_ She headed into the store right behind Brody, who never really met Alexis, but when you’re in their circle, their lifestyle, everyone kind of just knows everybody. _

_ “Alexis Rose?” he asked, skeptically. _

_ “Um, yes!” she gushed. _

_ “Twice in a week— I wasn’t sure if that was you back at the hotel pool.” _

_ “Oh, my God, that’s so funny— same!” _

_ “What brings you in?” _

_ “Well, I’m going to the stargazing thing at Twahid’s with Stavros, and I just don’t like the jewelry I have picked out for it. So I’m just looking for a loaner,” she lied. _

_ “Well, I will try and find someone to help you out with that,” he offered, looking anxious. _

_ Shit, Alexis needed to keep him out on the floor to see who he was meeting with. She contemplated, then fell into her flirting stance, shoulders hunched forward and placing a finger on his arm. “Hoping you could help me out,” she expressed hopefully. _

_ “I would love to, but I don’t really do this part of the business, and I have a meeting.” _

_ “Right, right— okay, well,” Alexis thought. “I don’t think I’m interested in any of the showroom pieces anyway,” she said. “I was hoping to get a look at the stuff in the back.” Every celebrity jeweler has a backroom stash. _

_ Brody looked around pensively. “Okay,” he said reluctantly. “I can take you in the back for a minute, but Maggie will have to take over once my meeting starts.” _

_ “Sounds good,” Alexis all but cheered, following him into the back. _

_ Waiting outside an office door was none other than Sebastian Raine, in the flesh. Holding her jaw up, Alexis had to keep her shock at bay. _

_ “And there my client is,” Brody said reluctantly. _

_ “Sebastian?” Alexis squeaked. “Oh, my God, how are you,” she said, elongating her words. They hugged and Alexis swiped his phone out of his pocket. _

_ “Alexis Rose, a vision,” he gushed. _

_ “Stop, I know,” she said, slipping the phone into her pocket sneakily. “Well, I’ll let you two get to your meeting,” she bobbed, backing up. _

_ “Okay,” Brody said. “Maggie will be with you shortly,” he said. _

_ “Ya know what, I think what I have picked out is fine,” she dismissed with a pff and a hand wave. “I’m just overthinking it.” _

_ “Okay,” Brody said, brows furrowed. “Well if you need anything else, call us.” _

_ “Will. Do,” Alexis pointed at him and backed herself down the hallway and out through the door she came. _

_ She hopped back in the car, Sebastian’s phone burning a hole in her pocket and zipped off to the hotel. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to JusReading on here for being my dyslexia proofreader! Writing in this format with dyslexia is MUCH harder than I remember it being so you're really doing the lord's work for helping me with this! Everyone go read their stuff on here because it's great! And thank you to everyone who's left a comment and feedback on this. This was an idea I had- a very very loose idea- executing it has been a challenge, and I really didn't account for the aforementioned disorder before I committed to it. Like I said at the beginning of this, this format is not my jam and now I remember why I steered away from it my whole life. But here we are, we're in it and I can't turn back now, so this will finish now that we're more than halfway through.


	4. Wild and Wired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day has arrived for them to go undercover. From text messages, to emotions, to the job at hand, everything gets a bit tangled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not gonna lie to you all, this was rough. I love the beginning and I hate the middle and end. My beta was unavailable this week so this might be a disaster. I'm just throwing this into the arms of the fandom Gods and praying you don't hate it. Go forth with this warning. Also, I am so sorry this is so long.

David lost sleep over Patrick last night. Which he did not need because today is Friday and his nerves were already fucking shot at the prospects of the weekend’s events. Last night was overwhelming in a way David didn’t expect, or maybe he did. He thought for a second that Patrick might kiss him. And it may or may not have been his own fault that it didn’t happen, he basically told him to leave before he had a chance to. But if David were being honest with himself, he was just guarding his own heart— preemptively pushing Patrick away before David could be disappointed that he didn’t make a move. Plus, he wasn’t completely convinced that Patrick was into him. 

Then there was the conversation he had with Stevie last night after Patrick had left, that didn’t help a thing. Stevie never helps. 

_“I just think that with everything you told me, and everything Alexis told me, it seems like this guy is completely different than anyone you’ve ever known. And there’s probably a good chance that you’re getting in your own head about it because you’re scared.”_

_“Obviously,” David bit out. “And when did you talk to Alexis about this?” What was this? A free for all pow-wow on his dating life, or lack thereof. _

_“Oh, she called to ask about Kirra Landry, that strung out artist, which was weird, and then she may have told me that she thinks this guy likes you.”_

_David set aside the bit about Kirra because no one has time for that. “Why— what, uh, what made her say that?” He hated that he trusted Alexis's opinion about it, but she knew Patrick better than he did, so what she had to say couldn't be completely ignored._

_“Maybe it was the private lunch or the two late-night hotel visits, or perhaps it was him coming to keep you company on your birthday—”_

_“You mean the birthday you forgot?” David interrupted bitterly._

_“I...was confused about the timezones,” Stevie defended._

_“We’ll unpack it later.” David took her off the hook._

_“As I was saying,” Stevie continued. “I can’t know for sure because I’m not there, but even here— across the world and living on the sidelines— it’s pretty obvious that there might be something there.” David didn't say anything and Stevie took it as a cue to continue. "I've never heard you say a nice word about anyone you know, not one supposed friend or ex, and I haven't heard you say one bad word about this Agent person."_

_David subtly rolled his eyes. “I think he just might be very good at his job," he dismissed. _

_“Maybe, if you’re his job,” Stevie said with that obvious tone David pretended to hate._

  
_“I am, actually. That’s exactly what I am. His job.”_

_“Well, there are all types of jobs,” Stevie said with a knowing tone. “Hand jobs, blow jobs, ri—”_

_“Hanging up now, thanks so much for this!” David spat. And with that, he tossed his phone to the side and shook out the last bit of cringe from the conversation. _

Maybe Stevie had a point, but it was hard to see behind the wall he built around himself. More and more in life, David felt like his job was to collect and distribute cautionary tales about people, warning the next person in line before they’re destroyed by whatever monster lurks beside them. And it’s not like he didn’t know Patrick wasn’t one of those people, it was written all over his button-downs— nothing about him was the least bit threatening or sinister. David didn’t trust it, though; he didn’t trust that a guy like Patrick could be into a person like him. Circumstantial trust is sometimes the hardest to get over. 

He glanced at the clock, it was twenty after eight. Stretching, he thought mostly of his regret for getting involved in this whole ordeal and a little bit about how he should get up and start getting ready. Groaning at the thought of getting out of bed, he picked up his phone instead. There was a text from Patrick waiting for him. He ignored the reaction that shot down his arm and spouted out of his fingers when he went to check it; a warm comfort settled when he thought he could get used to the idea of waking up to texts from Patrick regularly. An idea, he knew, he should not entertain.

_ [6:45am] I know you’re not awake, but I wanted to tell you that at 9am we’re going to be coming with all the gear to wire you up and do a test. I’ll bring you coffee. _

_ [6:58am] I also wanted to tell you that I had fun last night, and I’m sorry your birthday was kind of a disappointment. _

David’s stomach twisted. The heat from his chest rushed up his neck and into his cheeks; soon his whole body felt like it was glowing. He wondered what Patrick thought about in the thirteen minutes between those two texts. I mean, was this just him being nice? Or was he thinking about David? Probably the former because Patrick is painfully kind and thoughtful and courteous, and it’s just like him to keep a sad man company on his sad birthday with his sad cupcakes, then feel like it’s necessary to tell the sad man that he had fun, even though he had completely humiliated himself with a literal sob story from his past. David had to take a breath, he was thinking in run-on sentences and it wasn’t even nine, he knew he had to calm down. 

He thought of what to text back, hoping Patrick wasn’t staring at his phone and saw that his text had been read. He probably wasn’t, what with a diamond heist and a potential drug ring tearing its way through Europe. But David wanted to be thoughtful, be as considerate as Patrick, and obviously, be honest. All that, while maintaining an air of nonchalance. This was a lot of pressure to put on a text message, but here he was.

**[8:24am] 9am is the threshold of which I start letting people see me for the day, so you’re in luck on that front. And my birthday wasn’t a disappointment. **

After David sent it, he thought it looked too impersonal, a bit flippant. 

**[8:24am] I mean, it was, generally speaking...but it ended on a high note. So thank you for bearing your soul to turn things around. **

Ugh, a double text. He didn’t want to do that. 

With thirty-six minutes to get himself together, David set his phone down and decided to exercise some discipline, not allowing himself to sit staring at it and wait for a response. He had a small window of time to look put together enough for everyone to think he woke up like this, so it was off to the bathroom for an abridged version of a shower and facial routine (which is still kind of a long process.) However, in every battle there are sacrifices and this morning it would be the hair, he knew.

When he got out of the shower and into some fresh joggers and a t-shirt, Alexis was back from Stavros’. She looked distracted or maybe more concentrated than usual, and David realized he had never seen his sister do this: get ready for work. He had actually never seen his sister work, period. It was odd. She mostly primped her dress, inspecting it. He had seen her wear it before and was a bit surprised she was circling back to it again; double wearing a dress is very much not okay. To be fair, though, it was gorgeous. A custom Alexander McQueen couture gown in royal blue, with a full skirt, bubble hem bottom, crystal-accented belt, and a raised halter neckline, so it was understandable why she wanted to go back to it. It was admittedly out of her realm when it came to fashion, being very structured, and the color was a bit bold for her, but it did look great on her, David thought. Alexis fiddled with the belt a bit then smoothed the front.

“You’re wearing that again?” he asked after feeling too perverse for staring at his sister for so long. 

“Yes, David! I have no choice!” she humphed a little bit then headed into the bathroom. 

Slightly rolling his eyes, he headed over to the nightstand to check his phone. First the time: 8:56, he was making impressive time and thought he could actually do his hair in four minutes, if need be. There was also a text waiting for him. David wanted to hate the untethered emotions that floated inside his stomach when he saw it there, time-stamped one minute after David’s last text, but he didn’t hate it. Not at all. 

_ [8:42am]: Glad my humiliation was good for something, there’s plenty more where that comes from for any future bad nights you may have. And how do you like your coffee? _

_Future_. He screwed his eyes shut and looked up, heart beating against his chest like a knock on the door telling him to open up, it’s okay.

**[8:57am]: My coffee order might be too complex and you may mess it up, but if I give it to you it might also buy me some more time to do my hair, so I’m at a crossroads. Bad coffee or bad hair?**

_ [8:57am] If you need more time to get ready, we can put the safety of Europe on hold, David, it’s fine. _

**[8:58am] Ok well when you put it like THAT I sound ridiculous.**

_ [8:58am] You are ridiculous but in luck. Ray’s in traffic and he’s the one bringing the equipment, so you have some time. _

David all but flew towards the vanity area in the room where the blow dryer was plugged in and got to work, the phone next to him. 

_ [9:00am] Your coffee order? _

David glanced at it but kept working on his hair. “Siri,” David shouted over the blow dryer. “Text Agent Brewer: Caramel Macchiato, skim, two sweeteners, with a sprinkle of cocoa powder.” 

“Sending: Carousel Mack Aikido, skin, two sweet wieners, with a sprinkle of go-go power.” 

“NO! NO! NO!” David dropped the blow dryer while it was still on, grabbing his phone “f_ ffffffff _uck!” 

Siri had, in fact, sent a text telling Patrick he wanted two sweet wieners. This was great— truly fantastic. “Siri, you’re a fucking cu—” The phone vibrated almost instantly, startling him. O_ f course _, Patrick was a prompt responder. David nearly dropped the phone, his hands doing a chaotic act of trying to catch it, luckily he did. 

[9:04am] _ Is Carousel Mack Aikido your stripper name? And is everything thereafter your stage performance details? _

David hated him. With a smile on his face and a tingling down his legs, David_ hated _him. 

**[9:04am] Yes, I have a salacious nightlife you're not privy to.**

That seemed suggestive. 

**[9:05am] That was obviously siri trying to sabotage me. **

Another double text, ugh. 

_ [9:05am]: I actually think I have enough to go on, so you can finish up getting ready, Mack. _

Biting his smiling back, David put his phone down, trying to set aside his absolute mortification, and got back to his hair. It wasn’t long before it was done, after a little finessing here and sleeking there. He was just spraying it in place when there was a knock at the door. 

“Coming,” Alexis sang, fluttering out of the bathroom. “Heyy!” she said merrily, as if she were welcoming party guests instead of a team of government agents who’d infiltrated their room. 

First Jocelyn, then Ray, with Patrick trailing behind— a cup in one hand and some God awful white vest_ thing _ in his other. 

“Jocelyn!” Alexis exclaimed “This is gonna be so much fun,” she leaned in and poked Jocelyn’s arm playfully. “We’re gonna girl boss this whole operation!"

With a briefcase of equipment, Jocelyn and Alexis headed over to where her dress was hanging across the room and started wiring it up. Now David knew why she recycled the look— it was custom made for her life. Jocelyn fished wires through hemlines, unzipped a well-hidden zipper and slid a malleable chest protector in the halter of her dress, between the layers of fabric. Then, almost methodically, she pinned a small camera to the jewel-encrusted belt, it blended in perfectly. When she was done, she turned toward Alexis and handed her something to slip in her shoes. David watched with quiet interest, almost affectionately. Alexis was more than anyone had ever given her credit for, including himself; perhaps he owned her a tiny bit of it now. Jocelyn cupped her face briefly and patted her hair before taking the dress off the hook and helped her take it into the adjoined room. 

“It’s like getting the daughter I never had ready for prom!” Jocelyn commented excitedly.

Ray brought the other case over to the bed and opened it up, accounting for everything. Patrick couldn’t have looked more pleased when he sauntered towards David. The shirt he wore today looked good, very good. A light blue with the top buttons open again, David’s eyes went to his shoulders, though.

David hoped his smile didn’t crowd his face, he held it back as best he could, but it was becoming a losing battle around Patrick. There were also all the little things happening behind the scenes that he knew Patrick couldn’t see— a racing heart, an inside out feeling, a prickling down his arms. But then again, with the way Patrick looked at him, he thought it could be exactly what he saw. It was exposing but consoling, in an odd way.

Patrick’s joy radiated off of him like the sun, and even though it was at his expense, David didn’t mind. “Here ya go, David. One Carousel Mack Aikido, skin, two sweet wieners, and a sprinkle of go-go power.” 

“I literally _ never _ want to hear you say that word again.” 

“Which word?” Patrick’s brows furrowed, head tilted cheekily, while he tucked in his smile and watched David with that boyish fondness. 

“You _ know _ what word,” David said scornfully, face reacting wildly as Patrick’s lips tugged up. 

He took the cup, holding Patrick's gaze and taking an apprehensive sip. The only person aside himself who got his coffee order right was Stevie, and that’s only because it was her job for a year. “This is actually very delicious, thank you so much,” he rushed out, killing him to admit it.

“That’s why I’m so good at my job, I’m able to crack the tough cases.”

“Okay!’ Ray interrupted, clasping his hands together. “Everything is there and accounted for. I have to go prepare the van and connect the feeds. And David—” he looked at him directly. “I know you said the other day in the car that you were worried about the microphone being too visible, but I just got a glimpse of your outfit and I think it’ll be so distracting that no one will even notice!”

“Okay,” David said quietly, brows slightly arched, with forced politeness spattered across his face; he looked to Patrick.

“Thank you, Ray,” Patrick smiled courteously and nodded him off.

After Ray left, Patrick brought his attention back to David. “And to go with your outfit, I brought you this,” Patrick held up the vest. “You don’t have to put it on now, but when do you get dressed, put it on over your undershirt because it will be uncomfortable right up against your skin. And if you’re worried about it being seen— which I don’t think it will— you can opt to put another shirt over it, but I find that gets very hot.” 

“Well, I’ve been wearing wool sweaters every day in the Dubai summer, so I have a high tolerance for heat.”

“Good.” Amused with David yet again. “Next thing," he said. "I can either wire you now or I can just give you a crash course on how to do it— and, of course, Alexis knows how to if you need help.”

“Umm,” David’s ears drummed at the prospects of Patrick’s hands on him. “I think maybe you should do it,” he answered timidly. “I mean, I mess up everything I touch, and I’d rather not have my sister’s hands anywhere on or around my body,” he nearly gagged. 

“Okay,” Patrick said weightily, his whole breath coming out with the word. “Well, it’s a little invasive. You’re gonna have to take your shirt off and there’s tape, so that’s kind of a pain.” 

“Wires and tape is like the _ most tame _ thing I’ve done with my shirt off so I think I’ll be fine.”

“Good,” Patrick let out breathily. “So, uh,” he said, heading over to the bed where he readied everything. David stood alongside him, watching his hands carefully untangle and unwrap everything. “Uh, so, hmm,” Patrick cleared his throat, turning toward David. He was holding a long wire with a battery pack at one end and a tiny microphone on the other. “So, this—” he held up the battery pack, “will go in your pocket. The wire will go down into your pants, and you’ll have to cut a slit in the interior pocket fabric and slide it in that way. People will think it’s your phone.” 

“Okay,” David nodded. “It’s just that that’s a seven thousand dollar suit.” 

“We’ll cover the cost of the pocket repair, David, don’t panic.” Patrick teased; David only returned a harmless scowl. “The mic,” he went on, holding up the other end. “It can be taped in one of two places. Either inside your dress shirt, taped up against the button seam, or we can tape it to your chest. That’s kind of an outdated approach, but an effective one,” he explained.

David is a man with some gorgeous chest hair and he is not looking forward to when the tape will have to be ripped off. But again, it’s a battle and there are sacrifices— he just wished those sacrifices stopped involving his hair.

“Um, well I think I’ll be too nervous with it taped to my shirt. I feel like someone will, like, see it. Or— I don’t know— it feels too exposed.” 

He didn’t want to explain that he was afraid Sebastian would corner him somewhere and try to hook up with him, to unbutton his shirt and kiss up his neck. Not because Sebastian wanted him, but because when Sebastian was drunk he forgot that he _ didn’t _ want David, and he’d use him for a quick lay with a clean getaway. David had fallen for it again and again— fallen so many times it left invisible bruises all over his heart— and he didn’t want it to happen again. _ However, _ David is nothing if not prepared for the worst. So in the event that Sebastian _ would _ try, David did not want a government-issued wire taped to his shirt.

“Okay,” Patrick said. “It’s important that you’re comfortable, so we can do it on the chest.” His own chest rising as it filled with air; David liked too much the way it looked expanding beneath his shirt. “Well, then, uh,” he gestured to David’s shirt.

“Oh, right, yeah, sorry,” David said awkwardly.

Patrick turned toward the bed and grabbed a few pieces of tape, sticking them to his sleeve, but David thought he was trying to give him privacy. It was actually quite charming and endearing, in a way David hadn’t experienced; he slipped his shirt off, placing it on the bed.

He wasn’t used to undressing under these conditions and it was all a bit odd, but not. Listen, he might not be in the best shape of his life, but he knew he looked good. But even so, looking good can’t thwart the intimate vulnerability of standing in a room with the guy you like— or _ whatever _— in nothing but a pair of sweatpants and Uggs. He felt on display and the lack of sexual expectations was different, but not unwelcome. When Patrick turned around to face him, his eyes fell on David’s chest, and David prayed he couldn’t tell that his heart was pounding against his rib cage.

“Alright,” Patrick said, his voice a little trembly, a bit more gravely than normal. David reacted to it almost immediately and forced himself to think of something else, anything else. “My hands are a bit cold,” Patrick warned quietly before closing the space between them and handing David the mic pack. “Here, uh, put that in your pocket.”

“‘Kay,” David managed. 

Crouching down a bit to David’s hip level, Patrick began. Concentrating on holding the wire on the front side of David’s hip with one hand, he reached for a piece of tape with the other. David shivered slightly, letting out a small hum that he wasn’t proud of. “Sorry, cold,” he muttered, lying.

“Sorry,” Patrick returned just as quietly, enveloped in a softness that made David’s chest throb.

Patrick’s hands were delicate but assured, rough yet smooth. A juxtaposition David wanted to learn about, to explore his hands by way of them exploring him. He couldn't help but think that nobody with hands this gentle, this purposeful, has ever touched him; no one has ever been this careful with him. 

“Is that okay?” Patrick asked when he stuck down the first piece of tape. 

“Uh, yeah, ahuh,” David nodded. 

Then Patrick glided his hands up his side while he guided the wire; David needed to bite down on his bottom lip, thankful Patrick was too focused on his work to look at him. He taped it down at his side, fingers lingering as he smoothed the tape. The small amount of pressure he used thumbing it down carved a hole in David’s chest, aching for Patrick to apply a bit more pressure, imagination running ramped. 

“I have to come across under your ribcage,” Patrick said, more huskily than David thought he intended, and it echoed in David’s mind.

“Okay,” David wished he could use more words, but they were lodged in his throat like a dam holding back the other noises that wanted to escape.

Patrick’s fingertips glided over the ridges of is ribs and David sucked in a small breath he hoped he didn’t hear. When Patrick wrapped his other hand around David’s back to steady him as he pressed the tape on, David thought he would combust. Patrick’s fingers flexed just slightly, the strength of his hold unmistakable.

The higher Patrick worked up his body, the closer he got to standing at full height. Soon he’d be wiring up his chest and looking David in the eyes, and that was a lot to deal with right now. Patrick taped the wire at his diaphragm, then his sternum, working up. Careful not to tape too much of his hair, he worked precisely and thoroughly. For a moment, David thought he felt Patrick’s hands tremble, a minor blip, and he swallowed down that dam in his throat. Reminding himself that this is Patrick’s job, he’s just doing his job, there was nothing more going on, only in David’s head— and his heart.

All David could hear was his heart pounding in his ears and he became painfully aware that Patrick could feel it under his touch; exposed and on display in a different way. They were warm now, Patrick’s hands, as he taped the last piece just next to his heart. As soon as Patrick was done, he hesitated before stepping back fractionally, checking to make sure he had done an adequate enough job. His eyes scanned David once, twice, three times over. 

“I think that’s good,” he said quietly, running his hand along the trail of wire, making sure the tape was in place right; David wished he hadn’t. 

“Thanks,” David let out with his breath. 

For a gravid moment, they were suspended in silence. For a split second, David thought Patrick was going to say something or lean in, but it didn’t happen. (Why would it happen?) Still, there was an obvious tension and David didn’t know how to break it, didn’t know what whimsical comment or crass quip to let out to lessen the heat. 

Then, as if summoned by the Lord, Alexis flew through the door. It was almost a relief to David, but he was still annoyed. Patrick took a step back and put his hands on his hips, looking around aimlessly and blushing ruefully. 

“Ew, David!” she said at the sight of him. David hastily pulled his shirt over his head. “Knock much?” 

“Sorry, I didn’t think you’d be, like, topless at a team meeting, David!” she said, walking over to the vanity, flicking the tips of her hair. “I’m here for soundcheck,” she said to Patrick, seeming oblivious to his state. 

“Right, uh, yeah.” Patrick scrambled around a bit, then seemed to come to his senses. He took the battery pack from David and showed him the on/off button. He then radioed over to Ray. “Ready?” 

“That’s a 10-4 for Butani,” he said merrily. 

Patrick nodded for Alexis to proceed, she’d be the example. “This is Angelica Bloomfield, sound checking for the Twahid Karim case, over!” she exclaimed.

“Once again, Alexis, you don’t need a code name, you’re just yourself on these cases,” Patrick reminded her patiently.

“That’s a 10-4 on Bloomfield,” Ray replied happily. 

Patrick gestured towards David. “Uh, David Rose...for the Twahid Karim case?” 

“Less spunk, but I got what I need,” Ray came through the radio. 

Patrick nodded and told David he could turn the mic off for now and that he’d be back at three to get him. There was a debrief in the team’s room before the party, and then they’d leave from there. David still had to finish packing. Then there were the intermittent reminders to himself that this is all fake and it’s not a weekend with the guy he liked, but with a government agent. The crime ring was to be considered as well, that was jolting anxiety he didn’t even know he had, or could handle. But the real crime in all of this was that Patrick would eventually see him in the morning, and David still hadn’t worked out a plan on how to execute an ‘I woke up like this’ look while sharing a room with an FBI agent, but he’d figure something out.

**

Two thirty rolled around at break-neck speed and David had packed everything he needed. It was just a matter of getting dressed. Dangling the vest from the strap by his pointer finger, he inspected it with an exaggerated frown. It wasn’t as bulky as he had expected, it was actually quite sleek and discreet— he wondered if it would actually stop a bullet. And it was, like, a crop top vest, which was extremely incorrect. Cursing himself for the umpteenth time for getting involved in this, a decision predominantly made because of a crush, he closed his eyes in dismay and tilted his head back. When he boiled it down, though, he realized he had done much stupider things for much less in the past, so he just had to get through it. 

“How do I put on this fuckin’ thing?” he muttered. 

Alexis was putting earrings on at the vanity. “You’re, like, 34 years old, David, I’m not gonna _ dress _you; I’m not mom.” 

“Okay, first of all, I’m 34_ -ish,” _ David corrected, peeved. “Second of all, mom stopped dressing me in high school.” His pinched fingers emphasized nearly every syllable. “And lastly, I’m sorry I don’t know how to put on a _ bulletproof vest, _ Alexis— I’ve tried to steer clear of all variations of a vest in my life.” 

“Umm, tell that to your diary about Patrick then.” 

“Alexis!” David shrieked.

“What was it you said,” she ushered over, a stupid smirk on her face.

“Alexis, _ stop _—” he grit his teeth. 

“You’d like to see him in that vest then—” her eyes glinted.

“_ Alexis! _” David shrieked, feeling the red hot anger flush his face.

“Okay, fine!” she surrendered, slipping her bracelet on. “I didn't even read it all. Things got _ very dark _ when you started talking about your past and I didn’t want to have nightmares.” Alexis grabbed her clutch and started tossing some questionable things in it.

“Play in traffic, please.”

“And you have to undo the side straps and the left shoulder strap thingy, and, like, put it on like football pads,” Alexis instructed (un)helpfully, miming how to do it. 

“Okay, how would I know how to put football pads on? Or you, for that matter?”

“David, you know I dated most of the offensive line for the Pittsburgh Steelers!” She checked herself in the mirror one more time and took a breath, primping her hair a bit. “Okay, I have to go, like_ , hang out _ with Stavros, or whatever,” she said reluctantly, lingering her stare on him.

“Okay,” David swiveled his neck, uncomfortable with the gaze.

“Are you, like...” she shook her head a little bit, wheeling her hand in indication. 

“Am I what?” David looked around. 

“Are you, like, okay?” she asked, a bit embarrassed, widening her own eyes. “I don’t want you, like, having a breakdown about tonight or whatever.” 

“I’ll be fine,” he swore, keeping his tone regulated to what their exchanges normally entail: disgruntlement.

“Okay,” Alexis said. “Just— I won’t be able to hear anything because I can’t wear an earpiece after a member of the Beijing mob found it once and ripped it out of my ear, along with my favorite hoops, and almost put me in some gross meat grinder thing.” 

“Well, this has been really great for my anxiety, thanks so much.” David pinched his face together.

“Just remember, David, it’s nothing that can’t work out.” 

“Um, it _ couldn’t _ work out, actually, but okay.” 

“No, I mean, ugh—” Alexis flicked her wrists down pointedly. “I mean, it’s not all luck based. You have to, like, _ know _ what you need the outcome to be and just keep going towards that,” she explained.

“Okay,” David said dismissively, he had no fucking idea what she was talking about.

“So, if you don’t want to be made you need to, like, avoid it by making obvious moves. Just keep propelling forward, don’t think so much, just act,” she advised. “And if you, like, want Patrick or whatever…” her tone skated into mild caring. “You have to, like, actually go towards that.”

“Okay.” David nodded, wanting her to leave, like, yesterday. 

“Okay, well I’ll see you there, then,” she said breezily. 

“Bye,” David said fakely. 

Before she walked out the door she looked back at him. “Don’t think, David! Just act.”

“Oh, my God. Goodbye, please!” 

And with that, she was out the door, custom McQueen floating behind. 

**

Having never been to a debriefing before, David didn’t know what to expect. Mr. Brewer conducted what David would call the opening statements— though, upon reflection, he realized that was courtroom drama jargon and not FBI crime drama jargon, maybe it was called a pep talk? Either way, when he was done, he handed the floor over to Patrick. Where Patrick went over everything in painful detail and looked amazing doing so in the absolutely correct tuxedo choice David had picked out. The blue was the perfect shade, and it fit him just right, hugging every part of Patrick that David wanted to see on display. Unwilling to admit that he absolutely styled the look after Daniel Craig, and secretly thought Patrick had the better build for it. 

As Patrick explained everything, David hung onto only one thing Patrick had said: ‘David and I will be an acting couple.’_ Acting _couple. It’s not that David didn’t know what this was, it’s just hearing it repeated over and over again made him feel like a fool for thinking it was something else...could be something else.

When the team cleared out, going to their positions, David and Patrick headed back into David’s room so he could collect some last minute things: phone charger, journal, the will to get through the weekend without giving himself to someone who doesn’t want him.

“Nice speech,” David commented as he gathered up his things. “I mean, you left out the part where you thank me for my impeccable taste,” he exaggerated, gesturing to the suit. “But good nonetheless.”

“Oh, I was saving that for the award ceremony afterward. Got a whole thing planned,” Patrick returned.

“Didn’t know this kind of thing had awards, I assume you’ll be winning for best actor?” David quipped. Only Patrick didn’t react like he thought he would, he didn’t really smile. Well, he did, but it looked different, a little more broken perhaps. 

Quickly, Patrick recovered though. “Yeah, well, we’ll see,” he dismissed. “So, uh, last bits of information: we won’t turn our mics on until we get there. You have to leave it on the whole time, obviously not while in the bathroom. I already showed you where the power button is, so you know that. You can also take it off when you go to bed.” David got the sense that Patrick felt most comfortable with work, he always seemed to veer back to it, like it was an anchor when he felt himself drift too far. “If at any time you don’t feel comfortable or safe or want to back out, that’s fine. Come right to me and I’ll take care of it.” 

“Okay, and, um— just so you’re aware— there’s a great chance that all the worst people from my past will be there, so if you, at any point, find me collapsed in the bathroom sobbing like a nine-year-old you, just leave me there to die.” 

“I haven’t lost an asset yet, David, don’t plan on starting now,” Patrick told him, smirk budding at the side of his mouth. “But thank you for the warning.” 

“Mhm,” he nodded. 

Patrick’s gaze fell upon David’s attire. “And, for the sake of being boyfriends, I think I have to say you look good, too,” Patrick complimented. 

“Okay, well don’t do me any favors,” David dismissed. “Curtain hasn’t gone up, you don’t have to pretend to be my boyfriend just yet.” 

“I’d have said it anyway,” Patrick confessed. “I wasn’t expecting the color, it looks nice.” 

Filling up, his lungs contracted a bit. “Well, thank you,” David said softly

After debating for the better part of two days, David decided to go with the Shelton suit paired with the Burgundy Velvet Atticus jacket instead of the one it came with. Was color out of his wheelhouse? Sure. But he wanted to switch it up a little bit while he was already miles out of his comfort zone in all other areas of his life. Plus, it looked really good on him and he had exes to see.

“Are we ready to do this?” Patrick asked. 

“I guess so,” David breathed out.

Before leaving, he clocked himself in the mirror one last time. Self consciously patting his hands down his front, feeling for the vest and wire. 

“You can’t tell,” Patrick promised him. 

David believed him.

They followed the concierge as they pushed their luggage down the hallway. David was nervous, he didn’t know when they’d start acting like a couple, or how to go about it. It was odd, considering David had been in more relationships than he could count, but this felt different. He didn’t want to be the person he was in those old relationships, even if this was all fake; he wanted it to be different. This felt like a dress rehearsal to his future; maybe it was with Patrick, maybe not. Either way, he wanted to conduct himself as if he were a person worthy of someone like Patrick. 

As soon as they stepped outside, walking towards the Rolls Royce Phantom David had been using to get around, Patrick placed his hand on the small of his back, gently guiding him to the car. Turning in his lips, David looked down to hide his blush and small smile. David should have known that as soon as Patrick touched him, it felt right. Like this was how he was supposed to be treated, to be adored; with reassuring hands and a gentle comfort that he wanted to swim in. When Patrick opened the door for him and undid the button on his jacket, David ducked into the car, afraid Patrick would see the shine to his eyes that mirrored the feeling in his heart. 

“Thank you,” he said softly. 

**

When they pulled up to Karim’s estate, a sprawling mansion that was just short of a palace, David felt the anxiety slither into his nervous system, alerting all participants to jump into hyperdrive. Up against the walls of his chest, his heart felt like it grew, attempting to break his ribs. Tremors reached the tips of his fingers and organs felt twisted and misshapen inside him. He grabbed the handle to steady himself when he felt a little dizzy.

“Hey, you okay?” Patrick asked, a hand immediately on David’s back, rubbing a small circle. 

“I don’t know if I can do this,” David let out, almost panting. He screwed his eyes shut and shook his head. “What if I have to run at some point? I don’t do well with running— and oh, God,” he said almost distantly, thinking of everything that could go wrong. “What if I mess it all up? I don’t lie well either— my face isn’t made for lies, I’m too honest, too blunt,” he rambled. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Alright? We won’t get out of the car until you’re ready,” Patrick placated, putting his staunch stability on display.

“Well, we have to get out of the car eventually or they’ll be suspicious!”

Painfully aware of Patrick’s hand on his back, he concentrated on that. The methodical circles, at a slow, steady pace eased him down only minorly; he knew he needed a point to focus on, so Patrick’s hand would have to be it.

“No, they won’t. They know nothing,” Patrick soothed, voice like silk. “We just tell them we got swept away by the privacy the car provided,” he explained. 

“Is that what you’ve been thinking about this whole time?” David glared, miffed. “Having a dirty hookup with someone in my _ gorgeous _ car?”

“Maybe,” Patrick admitted with a smirk. There was a beat between them, Parick’s hand hadn’t left him, rubbing up and down his spine. “Listen, David, if you want out, it’s fine. I’ll take the wire off you now, and you can go in there and have nothing to worry about.” 

“I mean, I will have stuff to worry about because you’ll still be in there,” David returned, realizing he might be showing his hand, which at this point was looking like the King of hearts and a Joker: useless. “I know too much, wired or not, I’m in it!” He recovered, making it about the weekend and not his misguided crush.

“Okay, that’s true,” Patrick agreed.

David took a few deep breaths, silently talking himself through it. The feeling hadn’t left his chest, like he was buried in sand, but he had to do this. Alexis was right, he just had to act, not think, painful as that was to admit

“Okay, okay,” David shook his hands out in front of him. “Let’s just get this over with.” 

“Okay, turn your mic on.” David did and Patrick adjusted the tiny earpiece in his ear. They both stepped out of the car and Patrick buttoned his jacket when he did. Immediately, Karim’s staff came to take their luggage. 

“Thanks,” Patrick said politely and David elbowed him discreetly. Yes, Patrick is kind and would thank the staff, but it’s just not done. After some thought, David didn’t know why, it’s really fucking rude not to thank them; guilt prickled his insides, but he’d have to deal with it later.

When they walked in, it was awkward at first. There was a clunky moment when they didn’t know whether to hold hands or walk in together, arm in arm. Patrick finally snaked his hand around David’s waist, giving it a gentle squeeze; _ that’ll do _, David thought. The tension had hard wired itself through David’s body and he felt very stiff, regardless of Patrick being there or not, some things he cannot combat.

Suddenly, Patrick was leaning toward his ear and David instinctively dropped his head as if this were natural for them, as if they did this all the time. “Relax,” he whispered in David’s ear, and it sent a chill down his spine; hot breath and raspy voice, David wondered how it’d sound saying other things, in other places, under very different circumstances. 

Inside, Twahid was waiting with open arms, literally; a very proper and respectful host. “David Rose, so good to see you!” 

David leaned in for the European greeting. Twahid was lean and lanky and attractive, in a very obvious way. A little disheveled, sure, but not enough that he looked _ actually _ disheveled; with hair so perfect, David sometimes envied it. All that, and he was possibly one of the nicest people David had ever met. Finding out he was at the center of all this was disheartening, to say the least.

“Twahid, how are you?” David gushed, feeling his pulse tick up again, drumming in his ear. 

“Very well. You look lovely,” he complimented and David brushed him off, but also smiled, because he was right— he did look lovely. “I’ve arranged for you to stay in the _ VonLaud _ room. I thought you’d appreciate the art more than the other guests,” he explained graciously.

“Well, that is very thoughtful,” David said.

It was impossible to ignore the way his voice changed in a setting like this. Being here felt out of place in a way he wouldn’t have imagined a week ago, but the guy on his arm might have something to do with it. A part of him missed the tone he’d gotten used to when it was just him and Patrick, when things weren’t an act. When his voice could be stripped down to its bare bones and he didn’t feel exposed, instead like he’d finally found the right person to wrap his vulnerability around like a blanket.

When Twahid looked at Patrick, eyeing him like fresh meat, David intervened. “Oh, and this is my boyfriend, Patrick.” It felt natural on his tongue, he could get used to the weight of it in his mouth, on his chest, rushing through his bloodstream. “Patrick, this is Twahid Karim.” 

“Hey, nice to meet you,” Patrick shook his hand. “Nice place.” 

“Ah, you’re too kind,” Twahid returned warmly, waving him off. “Make yourselves at home. Safa will show you to your room.” He gestured to a young woman, behind her were a troop of people carrying their luggage. Other guests began filtering in, and Patrick scanned the faces, ever alert.

“Thank you,” David said to Twahid. 

“Dinner is at eight and the stargazing will begin promptly after. I hope you have prepared your inner child to experience this night alongside you, it can be quite whimsical if you do.” 

David caught Patrick’s eyebrows bow, eyes wider than normal. Okay, so he forgot to tell Patrick that Twahid is a bit of a hippy. But to be fair, this is a _ stargazing _party, what did he expect? “Great, thanks so much,” David smiled.

Taking Patrick’s hand, he led him toward Safa. “I forgot to pack my inner child,” Patrick muttered. 

“After the story I heard, that might be a good thing,” David returned; Patrick squeezed his hand in lieu of a laugh, and goosebumps rushed up his arm and seeped into his chest.

As they headed up the stairs, David tried to memorize his hand, map it by feel. There was gentle stability to them, it was reassuring and all-consuming; he never wanted to make it to the room, just wander around for hours, never letting go.

Once they got to the room, Patrick let go of his hand, gobsmacked by his surroundings. To his credit, it was extravagant, even for David. It wasn’t so much a room as it was a suite or a small apartment. There was a gigantic king-size bed in the middle of the room, pressed up against the back wall; to the far left of the room there was a sitting area, with a couch and two chairs; attached was a private bathroom, with a gigantic clawfoot bathtub and a spacious shower stall. Patrick nosed around the closets and looked in drawers.

“Okay, I think if the stuff was in the house, he wouldn’t hide it in the drawers of a guest room,” David commented with an obvious judgment of Patrick’s tactics.

“I’m not looking for that,” Patrick shot him a look. “I have to make sure there’s no—” he gestured to his own wire and camera pin.

David looked around the room, stricken. “Oh, my God!” he half whispered, half mouthed. “What if he, like, makes sex tapes in here. Check the closets— the vents— every nook and cranny!” David had been taped enough to know where people hide these things. “I don’t know what he’s capable of anymore! What if he gave us his sex room!” David peaked. 

“Shouldn’t be a problem for you, Mack. I’ve heard what you like.”

“Okay!” David shot his finger in the air. “At what point will I be able to live that down?” 

“Probably never,” Patrick retorted, pulling cushions off the couches and chairs. 

“Should I be helping you?” David asked, opening his suitcase. 

“No, you can unpack your stuff— just don’t open the blue suitcase.” 

“Something to hide?” David attempted a playful, naughty tone.

“Oh, I hide more than you know.”

“That’s a little ominous considering I’ll be sharing a room with you for three days,” David commented. “And speaking of, I’ll take the couch. That is, after I blacklight it and it comes up clean,” he added. “Do you have a blacklight in this little bag of tricks of yours,” he circled his fingers over the mystery suitcase. 

“I do, actually,” he admitted. “And you don’t have to take the couch. I’ve slept on worse, this is like a vacation for me.” 

“We’ll take turns,” David compromised, and that was a brand spanking new thing for him. “I wouldn’t want to deprive you of this bed, you may never find one like it again.”

Once David was done unpacking everything, setting things on hangers and pants in drawers, he turned toward Patrick. “Are we all clear?” he asked. 

“I think so,” Patrick’s dimples pressed into his cheeks.

“What?” 

“What?” Patrick mirrored.

“You keep giving me that face and I want to know why.”

“Nothing,” Patrick half shrugged: David pressed an impatient look in the air. “It’s just funny when you use your TV show cop lingo.” 

“It’s unlikely I’ll be able to stop now that we’re this far into it,” he confessed honestly, hearing that laugh he loves so much fall from Patrick’s lips. 

David was surprised at how his nerves seem to quell, he hadn’t noticed it while it was happening All of a sudden, he just floated into this placidness. Something about sharing a room with Patrick helped; he was armed, trained, and well-practiced in crisis situations. Oddly, David didn’t consider any of that before now. More embarrassingly, he thought of other things. He didn’t trust how content he felt, how safe— even though he could practically feel the rug beneath him start to twitch, ready to be ripped out from under him.

Breaking him from his thoughts was a knock on the door, and for whatever reason, it startled him. He looked to Patrick who gestured for him to answer it like it was obvious (it was.) When David swung the door open, he was face to face with Sabastian: tall, homely (even in a suit), with tired eyes and unkempt hair.

“Um, hi.” Was all David could muster at first. 

“David,” he said thoughtfully, as if David’s very presence needed contemplation. “How are you?” 

“Fine,” he said slowly. ‘What are you— is there something I can help you with?” David asked, Sebasitan ignored him— typical. 

He walked passed David, coming into the room and looking around. He didn't comment on Patrick right away which was weird but not all that surprising. Sebastian tended to focus on the things he wanted to see. Creating a world he wanted to live in, that people are forced to walk through, even if they don’t like the scenery. 

David stepped out in front of him. “Um, hi, yes, can I help you?” he repeated, sounding more courageous than he felt. “I’m in the middle of something.”

“You look good...healthy,” Sebastian commented. 

“Thanks?” 

Surveying the room once more, he looked at Patrick then back to David and took his face in his hands. “That doesn’t look like Kirra,” he said with soft condemnation. It was condescending and cruel, and it set David back nine months. 

“That’s because it’s not,” David returned obviously. Behind Sebastian, Patrick was walking up. The look on his face was one David hadn’t seen but might be interested in seeing again, at some point.

“Patrick,” he held his hand out, standing next to David now. “Why don’t you take your hand off my boyfriend’s face and shake mine instead,” he suggested with grit, a little forceful; David stopped himself from having the reaction he wanted and just let out a relishing smile, draping his hands on Patrick’s shoulders— _ finally _— when Seb let go of him. 

“Boyfriend?” Sebastian looked at David. “Didn’t know you were seeing someone— or is there more than one? Because I would love—”

“Just the one,” David cut him off, rubbing Patrick’s shoulders; they were nice beneath his touch, strong.

“Well, he’s always been a lot to handle, I don’t know how you’ll do it alone,” Sebastian said to Patrick before walking towards the door. “And find me later so we can talk in private, David,” he added before closing the door. 

Immediately David shook his hands out in front of him. Sebastian knew every button to push, just what to say to make David feel tiny. The worst part of all is that it was believable. He is a lot, too much. Having that reminder while standing next to Patrick only made it more clear, he didn’t belong next to someone like Patrick. Seeping up his lungs was a cry he didn’t want to let out, a weighted sob at the brink of peril, waiting to escape. He dug his hand into his pocket and turned the wire off. 

“I gotta— I’ll be right back.” He charged toward the bathroom and clapped his hands over his mouth after he shut the door. Thankfully, the sob dissipated but the tears didn’t. He wiped them away. Maybe he should have brought Kirra, just did as Sebastian told him, then he wouldn't have to feel like this. That his existence is wrong, too troubling, too much of a hindrance for the people around him. Glancing around, he thought he could stay in the bathroom for the weekend. The tub was big enough to accommodate him, then Patrick could get the bed— it was a win-win. 

What did Sebastian need to say to him anyway? David was afraid to find out— or rather, he was afraid to be alone with him. If he was already feeling this small now, it was only a matter of time before Sebastian would wear him down until he was dust and sweep him away like garbage. 

Trusting that the floors were clean, he slid his back down a wall, dragging his hand down his face as he went. With his knees bent, he rested his forehead there, taking a deep breath. There was a soft tap on the door and David wanted to fold into himself and hide. 

“I’ll be right out,” he tried to say as evenly as possible, but he heard the tremble, the unmistakable sadness that lives below the surface of his colorful personality— as it’s been described to him in the past.

“Take your time,” Patrick said. “I just…” he waited a few seconds. “I just wanted to tell you that, uh, what he said it isn't— it’s not the experience I’m having with you, and it’s just...not true,” he sounded like he was nervous, maybe even trepidatious to say so.

“Give it time,” David returned.

“Can I come in? I turned myself off,” he told him.

“Wish I had that superpower,” David retorted, feeling the bricks on his chest disappear, one by one, at a steady pace. “And yeah, it’s open.” He heaved himself up off the floor.

Patrick pushed the door open slowly and came in. “Well, you did warn me this would happen.”

“Who would have thought it would be this soon though,” David let out, trying to force a smile that felt like acid.

“Okay, so I’m starting to see why this might be a little too much for you, and I’m sorry for roping you into it.” 

David shook his head. “No, this isn’t— none of this is your fault. It’s mine for getting involved with him in the first place.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think you may have been right about the case this whole time.” 

“No offense, Inspector Gadget, but that’s the last thing I’m worried about right now.” David pressed his fingertips into his temple. 

“Well, I’ve been wanting to arrest that guy since the first time you mentioned him, and now I might actually get the chance. So, if that’s something you’re interested in, let me know.” Patrick clapped his hand on David’s arm, squeezing it a bit. 

“What— hm—how do you mean? What for?” For a split second, David felt like he had to protect Sebastian, something having to do with caring too much about people who don’t care at all about him. 

“Well, your sister stole his phone at some point this week and didn’t tell us until now—” 

“What?” He would be talking to Alexis about why she didn’t let him see that phone. 

“She was working off her own hunch, and was only able to confirm her suspicions when she got here,” he explained. “She’s downstairs, by the way, and I will have to see her soon,” he added. 

“Okay…”

“Sebastian and some guy named Brody Vincent might be framing Twahid and executing this whole operation.” 

“Wait— Brody Vincent, like, the trust fund baby of Vincent Jewels?”

“Yeah, you know him?” 

“My mom wears them every year to the Daytime Emmys.” 

“Anything else— wait, can I turn my wire on?” he asked. 

The consideration took David by surprise. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

Patrick tapped something on his phone to turn the earpiece on and dug his hand in his pocket to turn on the mic. “Okay, Brody Vincent, jewelry mogul’s son— go,” Patrick pointed at him, and it took David a second to realize he was quickly briefing Jocelyn and Ronnie in the van.

“So, as far as I know, Vincent Jewels has a professional relationship with Twahid, they sometimes service his pieces, but I think they mostly run his auctions,” David explained. “I mean, to be honest, Vincent has some really fugly pieces so I don’t know why they’re still around, but people trust the name,” David explained. “When Twahid partnered with them their business doubled, and they became close with Twahid.” 

“Okay, but how does this relate to the case?” 

“Um, objection sustained; I wasn’t done,” David snapped without bite. “Twahid isn’t royalty, he’s royalty _ adjacent _ ,” he said with his hands working. “I think having Brody Vincent makes Twahid _ feel _like he’s royalty— like, every royal family has a jeweler that works with them, and now he has Brody.” 

“Every royal family has a jewelry handler…” Patrick said to himself. 

“Right, like someone to shine them and tend to them,” David confirmed. “I know for a fact that Liz uses this guy named Troy, who I tried to get close with once in order to get closer to Prince Harry. It didn’t work out for me, but I’ve learned to accept that.”

Patrick smiled at him. “Well, thank you for that, David, we’ll put it in the case notes.” 

David bit back his smile, holding Patrick’s gaze before he drifted off in thought.

“So, if Brody Vincent is acting like the jewelry liaison for Twahid, and traveling around the world with him, it stands to reason that he could be the one facilitating all of this,” Patrick talked through it. “And if he’s a jeweler...he has the means to make counterfeit pieces.” 

“Yeah, well, jewelers are like the mob,” David explained. “They all know each other, and they all form these weird working relationships that are competitive, but also very lucrative.”

Patrick froze in thought, gingerly placing a hand on David’s wrist to politely to get him to stop talking. “Find the contact and client list for Vincent Jewelers, start with international contacts first. Cross-reference all the contacts with the countries the robberies took place in, then put them up against drug arrests and overdose victims in the surrounding areas,” he spoke swiftly and tactically, and it was really working for David. “Okay, how are they like the mod?” He looked at David again with his undivided attention. 

David was a little more than impressed and he stammered minorly before finding his words. “Um, all sorts of ways. Royal jewelry handlers, specifically, have tight working relationships. Because a lot of the time the families give jewelry and relics of their reign out as gifts or send out loaners to distant relatives they have to, like, be nice to on holidays and stuff. They also sometimes share with other royal families as an olive branch or something, like an offering of peace or something, I don’t know,” he explained; he knew all those documentaries on the royal family would pay off one day. “So, all that stuff is done through the handlers. If Brody is working as Twahid’s handler then it’s safe to say he knows all the other handlers, building relationships with them. And now that I think about it, the duchess of Monaco was photographed wearing one of Twahid’s pieces a few months ago, as was the Sultan’s daughter when she went to the Seychelles on that not so private vacation with Zac Efron,” he explained long-windedly. He took a breath, clearing his airwaves. “So, what did Alexis have to say?” he asked, jutting out his hip and planting a fist on it.

Patrick dragged his teeth along his bottom lip briefly before speaking. “Well, uh, Alexis was able to confirm there were correspondences between Brody Vincent and Sebastian Raine that would indicate his involvement with the supply of heroin, cocaine, and other prescription drugs. All of which were scheduled for a drop off on Monday, the day before Twahid leaves for Spain.”

David wanted to push him up against the wall and rip his shirt off until there was nothing but a bulletproof vest between them, but he suppressed the urge. 

“So, Sebastian is likely our drug supplier? 

“Seems so.” 

“I know I joked about solving this case for you, but, hello, look at me!” David self praised.

“And there’s still more to do— I need you to have that conversation with Sebastian tonight if you’re up for it. We think he was going to frame Kirra as the drug supplier. Her not being here spooked him and we need to know why.”

“Um, okay…” David said slowly. 

“I’m gonna give you an earpiece so you can hear me the whole time.” 

“Okay,” David nodded, pretending this was all alright. “It’s fine.” It was absolutely not fine, but he would have to make it fine. 

Patrick turned his wire off again quickly. “And if there’s anything I can do to make your situation with Sebastian easier, let me know.”

“Thank you,” David softened; Patrick had said he was his real friend the other night, and he was really sticking to it. “But I, um, I think just having someone like you being here with someone like me is help enough,” he said it warmly, he could feel the care on his tongue as it left his mouth, the delicate pain of the truth underlying his claim.

With a sideways glance, Patrick knitted his brows. “What does that mean?” 

“It means what I said,” David became flustered, unsure how to explain it in a way that Patrick would understand. “You’re not anyone that people expect me to be with— why would you be? And selfishly, it’s kind of nice to fool them,” he admitted, face scrunching up as he did. “I know that’s terrible because this is, like, a really high stakes thing right now, and this should be the last thing on my mind, but the truth is, it’s not! I don’t need to prove anything to these people, but I kind of want to,” he weakly fisted his hands, wincing expression playing across his face. Honestly, he couldn’t believe he just confessed that out loud; it was beyond pathetic.

“Well, that’s actually something I can relate to, believe it or not—” 

“Not,” David blurted out, amusing Patrick. 

“And since the people I have to prove something to aren’t here, I insist you take the torch for the both of us.” 

Taken aback, David didn’t immediately know how to respond. “Uh, okay,” he sputtered, face reddening. “And when you say take the torch—” 

“I’m your boyfriend, David, treat me like your boyfriend!” There was an edge of desperation in his voice that David wasn’t prepared for, and it showed. 

Sliding his head back, his eyes widened. “Alright, calm down!” he bristled. “I just don’t want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable.” 

“That’s unlikely.” 

“Oh. Ok. Then, uh— yeah— fine. I’ll— you’re my boyfriend.” 

“Good,” Patrick nodded curtly. “Then let’s go.”

Patrick offered his arm and David took it, rubbing his arm and skating his hands along his shoulder as they walked into the crowded room that now made David feel out of place. Touching Patrick was natural and easy, just like their conversation. He wondered if it would all be this easy, it probably would, he decided. It’s strange how a single person can make you feel everything all at once, without foresight or consent. David let himself be swept away in the charade, allowing the make-believe to cascade through him so he could commit to the role. 

When Sebastian started to part through the crowd, eying David and Patrick, David was surprised to feel Patrick tug him closer. “Now,” he muttered. 

“What?” David fell into confusion. “Oh, right, talk to him,” he nodded. “Okay.” 

“David?” Sebastian cooed. “We have an appointment,” he said smoothly, acting calm. 

“I'll be right there,” he tossed over his shoulder. 

“You’re gonna be fine,” Patrick whispered, standing so close to him their toes almost touched. 

“Yeah, I know, okay.” David hesitated, going to hug Patrick, which felt weird because that was supposed to be his boyfriend. When he pulled back minorly, looking at Patrick for an indication of what to do, Patrick looked at David’s lips then— 

The air shifted and whatever energy bobbed between them all week felt like it had threaded together in this tiny moment, in a crowd of people who seemed to have blurred around them. Building, rising, stacking, David felt the adrenaline pumping through his heart. Before he was able to stop himself, and when he saw that Patrick was meeting him halfway, he kissed him. Chaste and rushed, and yet more emotional than he was prepared to handle. His lips were as soft as he dreamed they would be; the taste staying there so David could take it with him. He felt his face flush and his stomach twist, wringing out with every hope he had just wrapped up in that kiss. 

“I’ll...um, I’ll be right back.” 

“Yeah, okay, good,” Patrick returned, matching David’s flustered expression. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can tell, I added a chapter to this. That's because I think it will be necessary to do an epilogue. I didn't include the Little Bit Alexis segment for two reasons: 1. it was getting too long. 2. I folded her bit into the explanation Patrick gave David, so it seemed unnecessary. And since she will now be working with them here on out, it didn't feel like I needed it anymore. Plus, that whole thing was self-serving and I might take it out of the fic completely when I go back and edit this thing up for future readers. You early birds got the worm on that segment, the others may never know it existed :)


	5. The Act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things progress in the case, but not without it's added hiccups. Patrick begins to realize what exactly is the act he's playing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm JusReading here on ao3, Elle's beta! I'm posting on her behalf today because she's been up for 24 hours and needed to sleep, but she still wanted to post on Wednesday so I told her I would take care of it. I have just finished rereading it, and I hope I caught all the mistakes and errors, but I'm also tired so please forgive me if I've missed something. She also gave me strict instructions to warn you all about how bad this chapter is: that the pacing is bad and that it's very 'clunky', but I simply don't believe that! But I've done my due diligence by saying it, I guess, so she can't get mad at me!
> 
> ELLE HERE! SHE HAD ONE JOB. AND SHE BLEW IT. (she had 2 jobs and she actually did me a huge favor, so bless up.)

Checking the ground, Patrick had to make sure it was still there. When David kissed him, quick but lasting, he felt himself spiral down. Shocking, really, when you consider how hasty it was, but it didn’t matter. It was David's lips pressed to his, no matter the brevity. And even now as he stood in sweet rhapsody, he could feel the lingering imprint of it on his lips, his chest, his bloodstream. He wanted to lap in it, wrap himself around it and let it be his shelter, but he couldn’t, not now. Inconvenient as that might be, he is nothing if not diligent and professional. 

“Clear the channel,” Patrick muttered quicky. 

_ “What?” Ronnie challenged. _

“Do it, now!”

It wasn’t immediately clear to him if he was doing this to protect David’s privacy and vulnerability or because of his reputation and moral code; he had promised David it would just be him in his ear, and he wouldn’t break his word.

_ “Roger that,” Jocelyn said compliantly, then the line went dead silent _.

“Okay, it’s just me and you.” Grabbing a champagne glass, glancing around, Patrick’s pulse quickened. 

He had watched, with pins and needles prickling the underside of his skin, as David was whisked away; Sebastian guided him by the small of his back. Patrick wondered for a split second if something was still there, if Sebastian had the same kind of hold on David’s heart as he had on his hip. After he lost sight of them, it was a painstaking few minutes waiting for David to come through the line.

_ “Okay, what— what do you want? I’m here.” _

_ “David, David, David.” _

He addressed David like a burden, his name weighing down his tongue; the tone of his voice was enough to make Patrick’s skin crawl.

_ “What?” _

_ “Why didn’t you just bring Kirra?” _

_ “Um, because I didn’t want to. I have a boyfriend. What was I supposed to tell him, that I’m bringing some random girl because my ex told me to?” _

Patrick’s lips reacted, David was actually convincing which he had not completely expected. Maybe it was his days as a child actor, but Patrick was impressed. (And liking how they were tossing ‘boyfriend’ around like an easy game of catch.)

_ “Where’d you find that guy anyway?” _

_ “Well, if you must know, we met at my gallery. Why do you care?” _

_ “When have I not cared about you, David?” _

_ “Um.” _

_ “I can care about you now…” _

_ “Ew, please don’t. I’m perfectly happy with my current situation.” _

Patrick knew it was all a lie, knew he shouldn’t leave himself bear for the rapture to take hold of him, but he couldn’t help him.

_ “For now, maybe, but David, you’re impossible to keep happy. You’re like a winter snow, you were never made to last. But that’s your journey, and I had fun traveling it with you.” _

David didn’t say anything, and it didn’t take a detective to realize that it was because every part of him cracked until it was shattered and scattered across the floor. 

_ “Um, okay, well thanks so much for that. But I’m more concerned about right now. What is this— what do you need me for? I didn’t think I’d be spending my evening trapped in a closet with you.” _

Alexis started walking toward him and Patrick discreetly indicated what he was doing. Rather seamlessly, she glided over and stood in front of him, blocking him from view from most people. Quickly, she started talking nonsense, not loud enough that he couldn’t hear what was going on with David, though. She gossiped in a quiet, natural way so that people wouldn’t give it a second thought. 

“Oh, my God, have you seen what Albany is wearing?” She began at a little more than a whisper. “Poor thing didn’t have time to go to the seamstress, the train is all, like, uneven and messy.”

_ “David, I’m in something here, okay? I’m in so deep I’m about to drown, and that can’t happen.” _

Sebastian’s voice changed, it wasn’t wispy and arduously pretentious anymore, it was desperate. 

_ “Okay, so what was Kirra supposed to do? Bring you a lifejacket? I’m confused.” _

David was starting to panic, Patrick could hear it in his voice, practically see the look on his face. “Let him talk before you react, just settle a bit,” he advised. “You’re doing great.” 

_ “Not quite…” _

There was a protracted moment, even if it was only a few seconds, and the time bomb in Patrick’s chest ticked rapidly. “Press him, gently. Very, very gently, David.” 

_ “Okay…” _

_ “I was gonna hold her underwater…” _

Frame her, he was going to frame Kirra and now— 

_ “But she’s not here and you are…” Sebastian continued. _

_ “Excuse me?! Are you— you’re gonna hold me underwater now? And, for what, exactly?” _

_ “There’s this thing I’m helping Brody with; I didn’t expect it to get this bad. But now we think the feds are onto us, and I can’t go down right now, David. Kirra seemed like a good scapegoat.” _

Fuck, Sebastian knew they were here.

“And then there’s Stavros, who is, like, sweet, but in a way that’s not really sweet, ya know?” Her wrist circled then cut through the air. “But I saw him eyeing Stefany, which gross, I know! Like, can you imagine?” She pressed the tips of her hair back. “Stavros and Stefany. Alliteration in relationships is so cringe.”

_ “So, let me get this straight…” _

David’s tone had stripped down to a point where Patrick didn’t recognize it anymore; pained and nonplussed, in a way that was hard to listen to; he could hear the hollow echo of a heart that’s empty, talking to the man who carved it himself.

_ “Your plan is to now frame _ me _ for whatever the fuck you’ve gotten yourself into, and I’m supposed to just bow down to that—” _

“Yes, David, take that! Tell him you’ll do it!” He tried not to sound too excitable, but this was their in. 

_ “—and take the fall for you?” _

_ “I’ll have my lawyers to get you out right away.” _

“Milk that,” Patrick advised. “You’re doing good, almost done.”

_“Why can’t your lawyers get_ you _out right away?” _

_ “Because I have to move product to Spain this weekend. I can’t miss that. If the feds think they caught the guy, it gets them off my back— just in time for me to get the stuff to Spain. Then I’ll— I’ll turn myself in, get you off the hook.” _

_ “Really?” _

Doubt drenched the word as it fell from David’s lips. Patrick took a moment to fully realize the scope with which this guy uses David. Despite how it worked in Patrick’s favor, it’s clear that it was habitual behavior that David had put up with again and again.

Suddenly the feed went a little staticky, with the unmistakable interference of hands skating up the wire over a shirt, shifting it a little bit. 

_ “Well, if you do this for me…I can thank you tonight...and then maybe again at a later date.” _

Sucking in his breath, Patrick tried not to react— not to let David hear how this made acid drip down his throat.

“And then I was like, ‘um, Karlie, he is using you, we need to evacuate,’ but apparently— ” Patrick put his hand up in Alexis’s face and her head stuttered as she looked at it, shocked. “Um, rude, Patrick— but yes, okay!” She turned her back to him, still making sure to cover him, looking around the room as she sipped her drink. (And she may or may not have been tall enough to shield him, it’s not important.) 

_ “Really?” _

His voice transformed, it wasn’t condescending anymore, but interested, or maybe— Patrick didn’t know. It was a tone he was familiar with, too. And he had no right thinking David couldn’t use it with other people. But he had unwrapped all these things about David over the past week, and in a tiny way he thought they could be his; a gift left on his doorstep. He had no business thinking that, though, and so he supposed he was the court jester in this literal castle right now. 

He could hear Sebastian kiss him, not on his lips but maybe his neck and up to his cheek. Patrick’s blood seethed, cold and filled with self loathing. David hummed just minorly before he pushed Sebastian away.

_ “Um, hands off— this is custom fit Tom Ford.” _

_ “Alright, alright. Later then?” _

_ “I’ll find you.” _

Well, that was_ not _ what Patrick meant when he told David to milk it.

_ “And David, your generosity does not go unnoticed.” _

Patrick heard the door close and then David came rushing in his ear, worked back up to his standard issued tone.

_ “Was that okay? I feel like I messed up somewhere.” _

_Be professional, be professional, be professional_. “No, uh, that was great. You did— you did good. Come back over whenever you’re ready.” 

He shot out a text to Jocelyn, telling her they could reconnect to the wire, along with the information about Sebastian. Guilt pooled in his chest. He shouldn’t have kept them out of this. She and Ronnie were every bit a part of this case as he was, even out in the van. They needed that information and now he’d have to relay it. Decidedly, he set David and whatever was— or was not— happening between them aside, and would concentrate completely on his job. Which he should have been doing since Monday. 

“Sorry about that, guys.” 

_ “You’re piloting this operation,” Jocelyn soothed. “We have to trust your judgment.” _

_ “Have to?” Ronnie huffed. _

_ “We need Alexis to get going,” Jocelyn went on. “The sooner we get her down in the vault room, the faster we can connect Brody to it, with her eyewitness account.” _

“Yeah, got it,” he muttered.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw David making his way back toward them. A little smile on his face for Patrick, or possibly from Sebastian. Maybe it wasn’t fair not to return the sentiment, but he was dead set on the task at hand right now; everything had steered way off the track of ethical work behavior and it was time to get the train back on course.

“Alexis,” Patrick directed and she turned around, looking focused but still sustained her drolly demeanor. 

David joined them, forming a small cluster far enough away from people, but not so far that it would be suspicious.

“I gotta say, that felt kinda like...” David did some sort of shimmy, with a look of exaggerated importance on his face. “Like, I thought it would be annoying with this thing in my ear, but I felt very James Bond,” he grinned. 

Patrick gave a brisk smile. “I really gotta talk to Alexis right now,” he said as curtly as he could, feeling his shoulders rise. 

“Oh, okay.” David braced his expression, frowning a little in apology.

_ “When she gets down there, she needs to take the belt off and place it at a good vantage point so we can see.” _

“Get a good view of the place.” 

Alexis nodded in that concentrated way that makes the nod roll into a shake. Oddly, that’s how Patrick knew she was grasping it. “Once you’re in there, do everything you can to get the code.” She had to open the vault or everything would be pointless.

“Right, yes!” 

“If you can, flush Brody out— get the guard mad enough to need to lure him in there. If you can’t get him to admit his involvement, we need to at least place him with the stuff.” 

“Right, okay. But, just so you know, he isn’t here yet. I worked the room, like, five times and there was no sign of him.” 

“That’s okay, he will be, especially if hears about you. It’ll force him out of wherever he is. Just focus on getting in there right now, and we’ll do everything we can to help you out.”

_ “Tell her I’ll be listening the whole time, we won’t let anything happen to her. And she’s a very capable, strong young woman.” _

“Okay, let’s not get carried away,” David interrupted, face scrunched up a bit.

“Is that it?” Alexis asked.

“Yeah, they’re gonna stay on you. They’ll let me know if you need anything.” 

“Okay, let’s do this, partner!” She held up her hand for a high five and Patrick met it, then she all but skipped away.

“And here I thought I was your partner,” David mused. 

_ “Switching channels,” Jocelyn informed. _

There was no real reason for Jocelyn to be connected to his wire; he was the guy inside, he had a first-hand account of everything. Mostly, he and David were wired up to record every interaction throughout the night to submit to evidence. And, of course, to keep tabs on Alexis and relay information. Now he wondered if he should have it on at all, with Sebastian being suspicious the feds are onto him. It was dangerous not only for himself, but for David, and he promised David he'd be fine. Getting caught with a wire on by the wrong people would not be fine. 

_ “But before I do, David, can I just say, you are looking very handsome tonight.” _

“Ah!” With his mouth open and a hand placed upon his chest, feigning how touched he was, David beamed. “Thank you,_ I know _!” 

_ “I would say the same about you Patrick, but I can’t see you,” Jocelyn said as politely as possible. _

_ “Don’t havta see him to know he looks like a lump of dough dressed up for Halloween.” Ronnie butted in dryly. _

_ “Okay! Switching over to Alexis’s feed. Tap into eight if you need us.” _

“Roger that,” David swiveled his neck a little, grinning.

“How long have you been waiting to say that?” 

“I’ll be choosing my right to remain silent!” 

“David.” Patrick cocked his head to the left a little bit, hands on his hips. 

“I know, I know, I gotta stop!” he rushed out, wrist wagging. 

Patrick couldn’t ignore how David had transformed. He was smiling, giddy even. Half an hour ago they were sitting in a bathroom while David was on the brink of tears and riddled with anxiety— hell, seven minutes ago when he was with Sebastian he sounded tattered. The late-night invitation must have flipped a switch in him. It was hard to imagine that someone like Sebastian could birth such a change in him, but then maybe? Patrick didn't know his past, not really. David had told him some pretty horrible things, sure. But he knew there had to be good parts, too. Good parts that could be unearthed with a touch or a look or a silent understanding; what if Sebastian found that spot, kissed him just right, to unlock whatever setting he programmed inside of David that lets him in. He didn’t want to get twisted up about it, but it was a little late for that.

It’s what he thought about all through dinner. David must have picked up on something, be it through his stiff body language or the shortened conversation. He had rubbed Patrick’s shoulders, and _ God _did he like that (even if he only did it while people while looking at them.) Despite that, though, he liked. Liked it so much he’d live off it for months to come, like a morphine drip. David had asked if Patrick was okay, if he had done a bad job with Sebastian, if he should let him do this on his own, if he had made a mistake by asking him along. None of that was the case. He didn’t want David feeling responsible for any of it, and a part of him was pained that David always thought he was the problem, that he was inherently bad enough to be the source of every issue. Patrick couldn't tell him the truth, though. Not here, anyway, not like this. 

“You did great, I told you that,” he insisted. 

“Okay, then was it the other thing because I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. And I thought—”

“No, it’s not— can we just focus on the task at hand, please?” Patrick didn’t want to think about the kiss. I mean, yes, he did. He was thinking about it when he wasn’t thinking about it as if it were coded into his DNA. But he definitely didn’t want to talk about it. Not now. 

“Oh, okay, yeah.” David’s voice seemed to skate, just brushing over the words, and Patrick didn’t mean to make him feel that way. 

After dinner, they were ushered outside for the stargazing portion of the weekend. It was lavish and expensive, and grossly gratuitous. Tented off areas, with sheer panels for walls and ceilings, adorned the lawns; couches and chaste lounges were arranged in clusters; cocktail tables with candles and flowers were peppered in, along with an outdoor bar, right next to the dancefloor and there were about fifty telescopes arranged at viewing areas all across the yard. 

“This is…” Patrick couldn’t quite find the word.

“Tacky,” David’s face was turned down, scanning the lawn as his eyebrows managed to scrunch together and arch up at the same time, in judgment; Patrick let out a little laugh. “Okay, so enjoyment is back on the table again?” 

“Sorry, I just— I don’t know. I think I got too focused— or distracted, maybe— that I forgot for a minute that I had an act to play, a job to do.”

Forgot, because being with David felt so real. This was supposed to be fake and his life outside of work was supposed to be real. But now, after the kiss, after the Sebastian, after the _ boyfriend, _ he realized he had definitely been living his life inside out. This, whatever it was, felt more real than anything he had with Rachel, and he knew why. The act he played was not tonight, but every other night of his life. But how do you say that?

“Is that why you don’t go out a lot?” David’s face filled with pity. “Because you blow it?” They gradually drifted away from the other guests, to a more private area beneath the umbrella of trees, but still close enough for Patrick to keep tabs on everyone and stay at a good vantage point.

“What? No!” His face screwed to the side, not minding the light roast— the charr. “I just have to work out the kinks,” he explained, rolling his shoulders a bit.

David brushed his hands along his shoulders as if to decrease some wrinkles, but maybe to push off the weight that rested on them. “Why _ don’t _you usually go out— oh, my God," David cut himself off briskly, looking over Patrick’s shoulder. 

“What?” 

“Brody, he’s here.”

“Where is he?” 

“Can’t you turn around and look?” 

“David, just explain to me where he is and what he's doing.” Patrick dug into his pocket and clicked over to channel eight on the small remote.

_ “All clear for Agent Schitt.” _

That startled David and he flinched before getting into it. 

“Look at me, but look at him, but talk like you’re talking to me, but talk to them,” Patrick instructed.

Flustered, David’s eye line bounced all over the place. “Okay, okay,” he rushed out. Putting his hands on Patrick’s shoulders again, he began rubbing and petting. “He’s at the bar talking to Albany— ew, her dress needs better tailoring—” 

“David.” 

“Sorry, sorry. Um, he’s looking around— probably for the devil himself—” 

_ “Gonna need a name,” Ronnie cut in. _

“Sebastian, I think he’s probably looking for Sebastian Raine?” he guessed. 

Patrick had to hide his delight with David’s description of him.

“Ooo,” David winced. “He just blew Albany right the fuck off, that was hard to watch.” 

_ “Visual description?” _

“He’s wearing a preseason Alexander McQueen suit in charcoal grey— not his color, by the way. He has the wrong shoe paired with it. And he has a face that looks like a baked potato.” 

_ “You just described Agent Brewer,” Ronnie returned. _

“That’s...okay,” Patrick mumbled.

“Um, he has red hair, like, Ariel red hair— it’s kind of gross. If I remember, he has blue eyes, he’s about my height, so 6’1—” 

“You are not 6’1.” 

“I am in confidence— and looks!” David peaked. “But, fine, he’s about 5’11. A bit heavier than me, a little pudgier. Not my type,” he added. “And my type is impeccable, just so you know.” 

“Well,” Patrick’s eye slit in doubt. David scowled.

“Okay, just so you know, you just insulted yourself. Because I’m here with you.”

Patrick glanced around and noticed people were looking at him and David with quiet interest. That’s when he became painfully aware of how stiff he was, letting David touch him so naturally while he stood there like a frightened statue. Breathing out, he relaxed and placed his hand on David’s hip and thumbed at it a bit, privately remembering exactly how his skin felt when it was there hours ago. David caught his gaze, and briefly, he let his dimples show. 

“What has Alexis said?” Patrick said, holding David’s eye contact as if he were talking to him. Their eyes carried out a different conversation that made Patrick’s insides feel heavy, but content. 

_ “Oh, you know her, she’s just kinda rambling until she finds the phrase that sticks. This guard seems more patient than the others. Might take her a while to get detained.” _

“I’ve never had that much trouble getting tied up,” David quipped, curling his tongue over his lips. 

“David.” 

“What?” 

“I’m gonna shadow him and see if there’s anything there. Go back over to Alexis, I’m good.” 

_ “10-4.” _

“Okay, come on, we gotta get closer,” Patrick told David, offering his arm. David took it, casting down his glance, but Patrick still saw the grin that tried to break free on his face. “Ya know, you’re actually really good at this, I’m surprised.”

“Um, thanks?” 

“No, it’s just— I don’t know. When I first met you, you and Alexis seemed completely different, but you guys weirdly share the same knack for this, but in opposite ways.” 

“I just have an immaculate eye for detail, while Alexis has a propensity for stupidity. If it works out for me here, then great.” he shrugged. “Plus, I have, like, an _ astounding _ amount of knowledge from the First 48 that I’m finally able to use, so it’s been a banner week.”

“Oh, so you don’t need me then?” 

“Honestly, probably not.”

Heading across the lawn, Patrick scoped out every person they walked by along the way, painfully in tune with every conversation, or at least trying to be. David was so close next to him, flexing his arm around Patrick’s that it was getting distracting, but not enough to lose focus. They made their way to the bar where Brody stood waiting for a drink. Patrick assessed him, scanning for any signs of a weapon, but didn’t see one. After that, it was mostly about eavesdropping. Brody headed to a couch at a nearby sitting area, where Sebastian was also seated, and a few other guys Patrick didn't recognize. 

As if to read his thoughts, David curled into him, running his hand around to Patrick’s hip and pressing him a little closer. The sure, steady hold could have made Patrick’s knees buckle. A touch he’d seek out for the next forty-eight hours. Then, as if he wasn’t already on the edge of falling, David pressed his lips close to his ear, until he felt his hot breath against it, making goosebumps stand at attention to whatever David had to say. 

“The blonde guy is Decon Hall, the shorter brunette is Cassidy Marks,” David told him. “They’re friends with Sebastian and Decon is _ very _ sketchy.” Patrick had noticed that David knew everyone in attendance but not one of them had actually walked up to and spoken to him. And having eavesdropped on about six conversations, these people seemed to shallow. David was worthy of a better company, but still, it bothered Patrick how they regarded him. 

“Okay, let’s head over there, but casually.” 

“Got it.”

Almost compelled, Patrick stopped him before his mind could catch up to his heart. “And, wait, before we get over there. What Sebastian said about not being able to keep you happy, I’d like to prove him wrong— if that’s okay with you, of course.” Edging closer and closer, he flirted with the line he said he wouldn’t cross.

David’s eyes reflected hints of gratitude, peppered with sorrow. “You don’t have to do that,” he let out in a voice so delicate, Patrick thought it would snap. 

“No, no. I’d like to. I told you we were real friends, let me do this for you,” he insisted. “I owe you at least that after getting you into all this.” 

“Oh, you owe me more than that, but if that’s all I can get for now, I guess I’ll take it,” David relented, shrugging a little. “I mean, honestly, I think just being here with you is bothering him because— well, one you’re not Kirra— but also because he is truly baffled by it, which I get, but still, it’s nice!” 

“Well, no one is more baffled than me—” that came out wrong. 

“Yeah, I figured that, thanks!”

“No, not like that— I just mean, I didn’t think I’d be here with you...having a pretty good time, all things considered. Last time I went undercover, it wasn't this fun.” 

“Ya know what, that’s fair,” David decided. “Especially after last night’s birthday, you saw the real me— pathetic and shame eating. Anything after that is an improvement.”

“I didn’t mind,” he promised.

“Okay, well I’m gonna get a drink then I’ll meet you over there. Do you want anything?” 

“Unfortunately, I can’t drink.” He could really go for a beer right now.

“Alcoholic?” David asked, bending his lips downward.

“No, because of the— the thing.” he gestured to his wires and the overall situation.

“Oh, right, got it,” David nodded; how can he be so dumb and so charming, Patrick wondered. 

As he walked across to where Sebastian and Brody were, the adrenaline of the job kicked in. This is what he loved, the rush of a case unfolding before his eyes, having exactly what he needed right in front of him. It was a game of chess, they all had certain moves they had to make, but it was up to strategy to decide who was going to force the other’s hand. Then— back too soon, without a drink— David was at his side, a tinge winded, with his hand placed on the middle of his back. 

“Patrick!” he looked at him, prickling with anxiety but trying to act natural. 

Now Sebastian and Brody were aware of him, looking over at the two of them; only about twenty feet between them. 

“Uh, yeah?” 

“Come with me for a minute?” he pleaded. 

Patrick looked around before muttering. “What are you doing?” 

“I should have gotten you the size 36,” he returned under his breath, without trying to move his lips, looking apologetic.

“What? David, we don’t have time for a fashion critique.” 

“Okay, first of all, there’s always time. Second, that’s not what I’m talking about!” He pulled Patrick closer to the dancefloor where the chatter would dilute their conversation enough, in case Brody was listening. “I can see your gun under your jacket,” he whispered in his ear. “They know feds are onto them, and you’re here with a fucking gun in your jacket.” 

“Okay, okay.” There was hardly any space between them. “Just, come on.”

He took David by the hand and led him onto the dancefloor. Everyone around them was so involved with the people they were with, they’d hardly noticed anything— or even think to notice anything. If Brody and Sebastian knew the FBI were onto them, they’d be looking over their shoulders every minute, inspecting their surroundings and constantly on high alert, blending into the crowd would at least make it harder for them to grow suspicious of him.

When they submerged themselves into the sea of people, out of view, Patrick undid the buttons of his jacket, and took David in by the waist, pressing them close together. Immediately, David responded, following the act, crossing his hands behind Patrick’s neck. It was too effortless and instinctive; touching David was primitive. Patrick tried not to think about how right it felt to have a man of this stature standing in front of him, connected to him; it was something he never had with Rachel, she was petite and thin and he realized just how wrong that felt against him.

They began moving slowly, Patrick’s mouth to David’s ear. “I need you to move it.” He spoke quietly.

“What?!” David whispered. 

“It’s in my back holster,” he explained softly. “If I reach for it, everyone will know exactly what I’m doing…and they’ll panic, there will be a scene,” he said slowly, calmly. “So, as naturally as you can, slide your hands into my jacket.”

As instructed, David hands slid from his shoulders to his chest, hands ducking under his jacket and smoothing around his sides. His skin reacted to David’s touch, blood rushing. Hands strong and large, moving with careful purpose, delicate efficiency, it took all he had not to shudder his breath. David settled his hands on the small of his back.

“Good, okay.” The words trembled, and he was losing the will to concentrate; mind splaying between reality and the wandering lust he had fallen into since meeting David. He wondered selfishly if David felt the way he did now when he had wired him earlier; the memory still on his fingers like prints. 

“You’re gonna feel a strap, follow that to the center of my back.”

At a painstaking pace, David’s hand move along the strap while the other stayed pressed to his lower back, fingers arched slightly as his nerves took hold; Patrick swallowed down a noise he didn’t want to escape him, so instead it echoed in his chest. His own hands reacted, sinking into David’s hips with moderate pressure that he hoped didn’t seem urgent.

“Got it,” David whispered huskily once he wrapped his hand around the gun. 

“Okay, take it out and tuck it into my waistband.” 

David nodded shallowly, scruff rubbing along Patrick’s skin, giving him chills. When his hands trailed lower, Patrick couldn’t conceal the chill that encased his spine. It almost blurred his focus, but then he saw— 

“Stop, stop, stop,” Patrick rushed out breathily when he saw Sebastian walking towards them. It would look too awkward if Sebastian saw David rooting around his beltline— maybe it wouldn’t, but he couldn’t take the risk with them both being wired. If Sebastian even had an inkling that David was involved, the whole operation would be a bust. 

“What, what, what?” 

“He’s coming.” 

“Who?” 

“Sebastian— David, just hold it—”

“What? What is he doing?” 

“He’s walking toward us— you, I think.” 

“Okay.” 

In one swift movement, David hugged Patrick closer, hands sliding around his waist tightly; Patrick could feel the gun pressed against his side— thank God the safety’s on. David had locked them in a convincing embrace, his head falling in the crook of Patrick’s neck. Rubbing his hands along David’s back, Patrick took in his broad shoulders, relishing in them. The cocktail of adrenaline and ardor blended inside him, disturbing his nerve endings. 

“Dav—” Sebastian began but— 

“Kiss me.” David raised his head, with just a fraction of space between their foreheads. “He won’t leave unless—” 

Patrick was on David’s lips, pressing against them with increasing earnest and intensity. From his stomach to his toes, there was a free-falling rush, making Patrick’s blood change course and setting his stomach in his throat. This was The kiss. The one he’s been waiting for half his life. Instinctively, his fingertips sank into David's shoulders. He relaxed in David’s hold, memorizing the feel of David’s lips cushioned against his, soft and delicate, imprinted on his own. How could a kiss feel like holding hands? Like two people fit perfectly everywhere, by their hands, by their lips, by their hearts. David pulled off, cracking one eye open. 

“Well, that was one way to get him to leave,” Patrick commented.

“I know, I’m sorry.” He slid the gun down and tucked it into Patrick’s belt, face riddled with repentance. “It’s just that I talk with my hands a lot, and I knew I would automatically take them out, and I couldn’t do that with— ya know— so I panicked, and that seemed like the only way to get him to leave, without having to talk to him and I’m—”

“David, David,” Patrick could fight the joy from spreading, enamored with the way David hurried his words out. “It’s okay. You, uh, actually made the right call.” 

“Okay,” David let out chastely, relieved.

“And please stop apologizing, you’re not doing anything wrong.” 

“I know, I think it’s just habit,” he frowned a bit. 

When they stepped apart and Patrick looked at David's face, blushed and flustered and maybe a little panicked, he knew that was the only person he’d want to kiss. For now. Maybe for longer. But definitely again. 

Looking around, Patrick had to recalibrate back to work mode, looking for Brody and Sebastian. “Where’d they go?” 

David scanned the area. “Well, Sebastian is attempting to hook up with Klare,” he flapped his hand over to where he was talking to some girl at the bar. “Klare is, like, the female me to Sebastian. When I don’t want to run back into his fire, he goes to her— it’s gross, but me and Klare are, like, Eskimo brothers,” he rambled.

“Okay, I literally have no idea what that means, but while he’s distracted, we need to find Brody.” 

_ “We’ve got movement!” Jocelyn came through the earpiece. _

“Jesus Christ!” David exasperated, startled. 

Patrick led them away, holding David’s hand without really realizing it, and they walked back towards the trees.

_ “Alexis has been successfully held up!” she said excitedly. _

_ “Visuals are good,” Ronnie added. “No sign of the product or the diamonds yet. We also got a return on those contacts you had us lookup. In Denmark, girl named Holland Reid, she’s the diamond handler for Queen Margrethe, who is one of our victims. Her stepbrother was arrested for distribution back in 2017. According to press reports, Holland and the stepbrother were never close, practically strangers, and so the Queen kept her on. It’s possible she could be lying and taken over his clients for him while he’s inside.” _

_ “Holland’s number also showed up in Sebastian’s contacts on his phone when Alexis handed it over.” _

“Good work,” he commended. “Start cross-referencing the contacts on the phone and find the ones that coincide with Vincent Jewelers’ contact and client list. That’s our direct connection.”

“Okay, and when you say Alexis got ‘held up’…what does that mean?” David interrupted, wheeling his finger around; Patrick realized that held up implied a gun. 

_ “Oh, sweetie, it just means she’s been held hostage. That’s what we need from her, she’s doing her job perfectly.” _

David let out a short breath, heads flexing quickly. “Okay.” Patrick rubbed his back automatically.

“We lost visual on Brody, so we’re gonna get a location on him. Signing off for now.” 

_ “10-4.” _

“Found him!” David sounded off proudly.

“What, where?” 

“Heading inside, looking like a villain in a Disney movie.” 

Patrick took off at a brisk pace, not wanting to lose sight of him. It took David a minute to catch up, in something Patrick wouldn’t necessarily classify as a run, but wanted to watch David do again and again; Patrick thought he looked adorable. His face must have given him away because David scowled at him immediately. 

“I told you, I don’t like running.” 

“I don’t know why, you look so elegant.” 

“Okay! I’m wearing, like, nineteen layers and an extension cord.”

Appearing seemingly out of nowhere, cutting David and Patrick off, Twahid was standing in front of them. “Gentleman, gentleman, what’s the rush, where are we off to?” 

Swiftly, David flew into recovery. “Oh, ya know, it’s all the romantic ambiance.” He draped himself on Patrick’s shoulders again, and God did he like the weight of it. “Can’t help but want to get this guy up to the room.”

Twahid smiled kindly. “Understandable, but the night is young. You’ll miss the comet shower.” 

“We’ll catch the youtube video,” David brushed off. 

Twahid appraised them, Patrick looked to David lustfully, and it wasn’t so much a part of the act as he wanted to tell himself. 

“Very well, who am I to get in the way of budding love; enjoy the room, gentleman.” Twahid stepped out of the way, granting them access to the doors. Patrick wished he didn’t say _ love _. Not that he loved David, not yet, but he could picture a point where he would be in love with him, could be. 

“Oh, my God,” David bristled when they were inside. “He did give us the sex room!”

Patrick chortled. “Don’t know if I should be offended or not.”

“Um, if anything, it’s a compliment that he thought you could get with me.”

“I'm here as you're date, David. We want him to believe you're sleeping with me." Talking about it made his hands hot, redness ran up his neck. 

They turned down a long hall, but there was no sign of Brody. The blood rushed into Patrick’s ears, drumming with intuition. A smooth composure draped over him when he knew he was onto something big. A combination of thrill and equanimity, the two opposites somehow working together seamlessly. He looked to David at the thought. 

When they rounded the next corner David ran into Brody; intuition validated. David reacted wildly to the scare, spasming. “Oh, my God!”

“David Rose,” Brody greeted— and he really was as ugly as David had described. “I was just looking for your sister.” 

“I try to never know where she is, at all times.” Patrick elbowed him. “I mean, why, what’s up, what’s going on?” He bent his elbow and somehow rested it on Patrick’s shoulder, hunched over.

“She popped in the store the other day, was looking for a piece. We didn’t have it, but I wanted to discuss it with her now.” He was lying, Patrick could tell. 

“Oh, well, she’s around here somewhere. I’m sure if you just dangle a diamond necklace out like a dog bone, she’ll come running.” David laughed ridiculously and Patrick pinched his side. “Haaa,” he settled.

“I, uh, was actually thinking about getting David something,” Patrick spoke up, seeing an in. 

David looked at him with a relishing grin. “I hope it’s cufflinks with black diamonds— do you have anything like that?” David looked to Brody, hopeful and intrigued. 

“David.” 

“And you are?” Brody didn’t seem phased by the exchanged, distracted even. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, checking something. 

“Oh, sorry, Patrick Bricker.” Brody glanced up to nod. “I hear you work with Twahid, maybe there’s something here you could show me?” 

“Uh, sure, sure, yeah— just—” His phone began ringing and he answered it. “Yeah? What? — okay, yeah. Tell Twahid I’m sorry.” He hung up the phone, looking ghostly. “I’m sorry, I have to — I gotta go. And David— if you see Alexis tell her I need to see her.” He rushed off, hands rummaging in his pocket. 

Patrick paced a small circle on the marble floors until Brody was out of view then went in his direction, walking rapidly.

“Patri—” 

“Stay there!” 

Just in time, he saw Brody head out the front door. It was huge, gaudy, and made of heavy mahogany. It closed slowly behind Brody, giving Patrick enough time to squeeze out after him before it shut all the way. He ducked down in a shadowy corner while he watched Brody shuffle down the entry stairs and walk down the gravel driveway. 

“What the hell…” he let out under his breath. Only the guilty run.

Brody climbed into a Range Rover and Patrick took two giant, silent steps to position himself behind a topiary. Tapping into channel eight, Patrick’s words flew out of his mouth quietly. “Brody Vincent is departing in a dark-colored Range Rover, from the north entrance, license plate 33B97— fuck, I can’t see the rest. Get a car on it now— keep a reasonable distance but not enough to leave him any leeway. I think he knows we’re here. Sebastian mentioned something.” 

_ “What about Alexis?” _

The pulse in his neck drummed up into in his ears. “I think he thinks Alexis is the agent— or working with the agent. Which is right, so we have to tread lightly.” Once the headlights had peeled down the driveway, Patrick came out of his hiding spot, heading back inside to look for David. 

_ “Should we extract?” _

“No, no. Alexis can handle it— trust me.” This was Joccelyn’s first time dealing with Alexis in this capacity, she didn’t completely understand what she was capable of, but Patrick knew all too well. Plus, they still had Sebastian, they had to get him. “I have to take these wires off me and David _ now _!” Crossing the grand foyer, Patrick retraced his steps, heart palpitating. “Phone communication from here on out— I want every detail of that ATL sent to me— David!” Thank God, he was exactly where he left him. “Brewer, signing off.” As smoothly as he could, he fell right into a placid, almost eerie calmness, as to not alert David. For now, he’d be perfectly relaxed. 

“Come on.” 

“Is everything okay?” 

“Mmhmm. And try to look a little more excited, we’re supposed to be going to the sex room,” Patick chastised. 

“If I were actually getting sex tonight, I might be,” David retorted; Patrick’s stomach flipped at the thought. 

Cantering up the stairs, Patrick glanced around to make sure no one noticed them; there was only a few of the staff members around, and they weren’t paying attention to them. Everyone was still outside and Patrick wondered if anyone would notice David’s absence. He had known a lot of people attending, which shouldn’t have been all that surprising, but still, he didn’t want anyone putting pieces together, to realize David is on the arm of a federal agent. He thought to tell David to act natural, to stay calm, but knew telling him wouldn’t help; he had to lead by example. And he reserved himself to maintaining the repour they’ve had all week; it kept David calm. 

When they got into the room, Patrick locked the door and stored away his gun away, locking it in the travel safe he had in his suitcase. Then he had to get out of that suit jacket; a 34 may be his correct size, but it was restricting. The holster strap was the next to go, he peeled it off his shoulders and placed it in the suitcase with the rest of his work things. And then, well, he might as well take the tie off, it was practically choking him all night; he wasn't used to being so buttoned up and put together.

“Who’s the stripper now?” David teased, grinning stupidly. 

Patrick had just rolled up his sleeves, and he should have expected David to say something; he breathed out his amusement. “And this is as far as it goes.”

“Um, it most certainly is not,” David protested indignantly and Patrick’s eyes went wide with surprise, tilting his head waiting for an explanation. “It is extremely incorrect to be walking around with all the buttons done up like that without a tie, you look ridiculous. Some may even say it’s a crime.”

"Others would disagree.*”

"Well, others aren't here.”

Patrick let out a wispy laugh, undoing the top button and thinking for a moment that he saw David dart his gaze to his chest. Deciding he liked the look on David, he left his shirt like that; he would normally unbutton the second one, but watching David silently get worked up at the incorrectness of it was more fun. 

“So what happened?” David asked, hand on his hip. Patrick rested his hands on his own as well.

“Brody left,” Patrick sighed out and David frowned. “So, now we have to concentrate on Sebastian.” 

“Okay…” David crossed his arms, attentive. 

“We also have to take the wires off,” he added bracingly. “It’s a procedure thing, once we know we’re suspected, it’s better that we do everything in our power not to get caught— and to keep ourselves safe.” 

“Okay…”

“I know you agreed to meet him later, and if it’s okay with you, I’d like you to get some information.”

David took a breath. “Okay. Yes, I _ did _ tell him I would meet him,” there was a but coming, Patrick felt it. “But now I think I’m getting, like, scared.”

“Why did you even tell him that?” Patrick hated that he wanted to know, that he needed David to clarify that it wasn’t something personal. But he thought it was better to know now before he gets any more unraveled over the idea of David.

“Because you said to milk it!” David’s hands splayed out, tossing the air around.

“Huh?” 

“I agreed to meet up with him because you need more information, and I knew it was the only way to get it. I needed him alone, while everyone was asleep. And I thought— I don’t know— he’d have to take me to wherever the drugs were if he was going to frame me for it!” 

Patrick’s lips quirked up to the side. “Oh. I’m um— I did not put that together.” 

“Why did you think I said it?” David looked almost offended. 

“Because he’s your ex. I thought maybe you wanted to, I don’t know, fall back into it with him.” A concept he was all too familiar with. 

“_ Absolutely _ not,” David elongated his words. “That’s kinda why I want to back out now,” he confessed. “Especially if I won’t have you in my ear, or like, right outside the door.” 

“Well, we’re in too deep now, David,” Patrick sighed; David whimpered. “_ But _if that’s what you want, I can take him down myself,” he conceded. “I have enough to charge him. I just really want to get the drugs, too, before anyone involved has a chance to move them. Which they will, the second he gets arrested.” 

“Okay, okay, okay,” David shook his hands out. “It’s just—” he made a fist then flexed his fingers out. “I don’t want to be put in a position with him that I’ll regret.” 

“What do you mean?” Patrick didn’t know if he was asking for his job or himself. 

Hesitating, David dragged his fingers along his face. “You told me the other day that you could be my real friend,” David said quietly, reserved in a way that made Patrick believe he was afraid to say it loudly, in case the words would break in front of him.

“I am.” 

“Well, up until you said that I only had one of those. And I basically found her on the side of the road three years ago, like a stray cat,” David rambled animatedly. “And, I just don’t want what I’m about to tell you to make you see me any differently. Because I...like the way you look at me,” he blushed a little bit.

Patrick’s heart floated and he had to take a breath to set it back in place. “I could never look at you any differently,” he promised. And it was the truth. Patrick took him for who he was, not who other people wanted him to believe he was. He had a working relationship with tabloids through working with Alexis, he knew the tabloids can’t be trusted. 

“Tell ya what—” nervous energy crawled up his legs and into his middle. “If you tell me whatever this is— which you don’t have to— I’ll tell you something that I’m not exactly proud of.”

“It’s hard to believe you have anything like that,” David commented. “But I am also _ very _interested.” 

They both sat at the edge of the bed, David’s hands fiddling nervously with his rings. “Oh wait, can I turn the wire off?” he asked first. “And actually, take the earpiece out, too. If Jocelyn pops in one more time, I might actually have a heart attack.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Patrick 

“It’s so stupid because I don’t love him— or even like him. But I know he’s gonna try to sweet talk me and praise me, and try to sleep with me so it feels like I owe it to him to do this for him, and I don’t want to fall for it…again.” He didn’t look up, just kept rubbing his hands along his knees and looking down. “Being around him...is not my best look, and I don’t want to wear it again.”

Patrick wanted to reach out, to rub his back, or hold him, or take him by the hand. Become an architect and build a wall around his heart, and guard the door himself. 

“He plays people like instruments, and I’m his favorite chord,” David went on. “It feels like he just keeps coming back to me over and over again. And I don’t know what kind of carnage I inflicted in a past life, but I’m at the point where I know I don’t deserve the punishment I’m getting in this one— at least that what Stevie keeps telling me, and I’m trying to believe her.” 

There was really nothing Patrick could do; he couldn’t save him from a fall he’d already collected scars from, but he wanted to. Helplessness does not bode well with him, he wanted to take charge of the situation but there was nowhere to steer it, David had already ridden its course. Trickling down his spine was the unmistakable drip of responsibility though like he had to claim his part in all of this. 

“I’m sorry, David, for everything. If I had known what Sebastian had done to you in the past, I would’ve never asked you to do any of this.” 

“Well, you needed an in and I was the only one who could get you one. I mean, it came with a price, but I was willing to pay it. And here I thought things only cost money, but apparently there’s a market for emotional currency that I didn’t even know about,” he attempted to recover from his emotions being laid so bare. 

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have to.” 

David waved him off dismissively, shaking the emotion from his face. “I believe we had a deal, Agent Brewer,” he reminded.

At the mention, his chest felt heavier. For a moment, he thought he would tell David what he pondered for a decade, what he had hidden, what he had tortured himself with, what he didn’t accurately understand until recently. What he had denied and revived in the course of seven days. But the words wouldn’t fall out, they were tied down to his tongue. So, he said this instead. “I was supposed to get married,” he let it out with his breath. “To a girl, I had been with since high school, we were on and off for a while, and it just— it never felt right. So I...just left her...without a real explanation.” 

David blinked rapidly, head minorly vibrated, which was a valid reaction. “Wow, I...did not see that coming.” 

“Yeah…” he twisted his fingers together, stomach prickling. 

“That poor girl— no offense, I’m sorry.” 

“No, no, what I did was messed up. I just broke up with her and left to do location work with my dad and never really gave her the explanation she deserved.” Patrick’s breath trembled, shaking the air in front of him. Inundated with a type of rushing nerves that he hadn’t quite experienced before, his whole body buzzed, like to stand at the edge of a cliff. “But I’m going to, I need to.” He decided. “I think I’m ready for her to know...maybe just her.” 

“I mean, who else is there to tell?” David mused. “Obviously you can tell me because I’d be lying if I said I wasn't _ dying _to know, but, ya know, whenever you have a free minute,” David shrugged. 

“I’ll definitely let ya know,’ Patrick promised, smirk surfacing. 

“I’m really enjoying this trend of utterly humiliating ourselves on a nightly basis.” 

“Yeah, I think we can stop here, though, we have to come up with an alternate plan to deal with Sebastian.”

David took a deep breath. “I’ll do it.” 

“You don’t have to.” 

“I kinda do. Besides, Alexis is sitting in a dungeon somewhere for no reason, you need at least one helpful Rose on your team.” 

“Okay, well then, we’ll come up with a plan. In the meantime, we need to take all the wires off and store them away.” 

“Okay,” David nodded. “I’m gonna text Sebastian and see what time he wants to meet me. It would be weird if I set a time, seeing as I’ve never been allowed to make decisions when it came to us. I don’t want him suspicious, he’s gotta feel like the ball is in his court.” 

“Okay, good.” 

“And just one more thing—” David pointed a finger in the air. “It took me, like, six tries to get this vest thing on so I’m gonna need some help with that.”

Dimpled pressed into his cheeks, Patrick nodded. “Take it you didn’t wear football pads in your youth?” 

“You take it correctly.” 

David headed into the bathroom while Patrick shuffled through his suitcase, looking for a tiny cameras Ray had packed. He knew David would protest to wearing a pin, and it felt nice that he knew him that well already. There was a cufflink camera as well, but if he met Sebastian while everyone was asleep, it would be presumed that David himself would be in pajamas. Sighing, Patrick didn’t really know how he would get the evidence he needed without intervening himself. Thinking, he paced a little bit. When he walked past the window, he looked out it, seeing the whole party. He scanned, clocking Sebastian almost right away, talking with the two guys he was sitting with earlier. It was almost midnight, and Patrick had no idea how long these things went on for.

“Okay!” David came out of the bathroom stripped down to just an undershirt with a bulletproof vest over it. “I think I got it,” he declared.

And so he was off, stretching behind his head in an attempt to reach the back of the shoulder strap, achieving his goal. Then there were the side straps— there are four of them, but like most people, David thought there were only two. With his lips tucking in, Patrick enjoyed the show, arms crossing and head cocked. David started grasping at his sides, cursing under his breath. 

“You, uh, want some help there?” 

David let out a low growl, finally getting his fingers beneath the strip of fabric and when he tore it, the velcro sound ripped through the air.

“One more, you can do it.”

“Okay!” David grimaced. When he finally found the last strap, he whipped the vest off and threw it at Patrick

He caught it easily. “Wow, you must make a ton of money at your night job.” 

“Okay, this was, like, the _ least _ embarrassing thing you’ve seen me do today.”

“Well, the night is still young,” he mirrored Twahid’s words. 

“Yes, well, there’s still the tape that has to be _ ripped _off my chest, so that’ll be yet another opportunity for you to see me cry.” Amused, Patrick smirked. 

Fishing through his bag, he grabbed some baby oil he had gotten specifically for the aforementioned reason and tossed it to David

“I can’t believe I caught that,” David muttered. 

“Apply that between and your skin, then pull gently.” 

“Do I wanna know why you packed this? Because it was almost too readily available,” he teased. “But thank so much, I’ve been really worried about my chest hair all day.” He turned on his heels and headed back into the bathroom. 

Patrick took the time to get himself out of his vest and wire, unbuttoning his shirt all the way and tugging in out of his pants. As he was pulling it off his shoulders David came back into the room.

“I got a—sorry,” he said briskly but didn’t turn away. Patrick stood in just an undershirt. “Um, hmm,” he cleared his throat. “I was just coming to tell you that Sebastian’s text me back, he said he can’t meet me until tomorrow morning, before everyone wakes up, and that he’d call me.”

“Okay,” Patrick nodded, that bought them some time.

David lingered for a moment longer, both of them at a silent impasse, until he finally ducked back into the bathroom. When David resurfaced, he didn’t make an effort to get back in his suit, instead, he headed to his suitcase and rummaged through. 

“I’m gonna take a shower real quick. I have to wash off the baby oil and embarrassment of the day.” 

“Are we not going back down there?” 

“Oh.” David stopped, glance darting around. “Do I have to?” he asked with a small frown and a pleading look. “I just thought with Brody gone, and with a time set for meeting Sebastian, we were done for the night.” 

“Uh, well.” Patrick thought it over. “Um, I have a pretty good vantage point from here,” he gestured to the window, “so I guess it’s fine.” 

“Okay.” 

The last thing Patrick expected was for David to take an hour in the bathroom. He didn't know why this was surprising, but it was. When he finally came out, his hair was completely done, which shouldn’t have been a shock because Patrick heard the blow dryer running for a few minutes, and he was in his comfortable clothes. 

“Did you do your hair to go to bed?” 

“Yes, well, if I already go to bed beautiful, it puts less pressure on my sleep to make me that way.” 

“Right,” Patrick smiled.

Patrick headed to the shower next. In a place like this, he didn’t have to worry about the hot water situation, so that was nice. The shower was euphoric, with showerheads lining the walls, and two wide, rainfall like ones positioned above his head. The steam built, encapsulating him; the muscles that had wound themselves into knots and twists relaxed gradually. Along with the water, the day washed over him. It was nearly one in the morning, and he had been up since four in the morning the day before. The mental and emotional stamina washed down the drain, and he let it go, spiraling down the drain in a cycloned farewell. No wonder David took such a long shower, Patrick thought— but then, it was probably for the best that he didn’t think about David in the shower.

After he had dressed, he went out into the room, eyes lingering on David laying on a couch that was a bit too small for him, reading. His feet were up on the arm and he had pillows wedged behind his back; he had taken some blankets from the tall bureau and set himself up a little bed. Patrick wanted to capture this image, somewhat ashamed that he was surprised David was a reader. 

Determined not to linger, he headed over to the window, noticing it had rained. No one was out there anymore. Suddenly lightning strobed the room, followed by a shaking roar of thunder. Patrick glanced at David, unmoved by the raging storm. 

“When did it start raining?” 

“Few minutes ago,” David looked over at him, adjusting on the couch. “It was actually very fun to watch them all scatter like scared fish. Albany screamed so loud I heard it from here.” 

“I bet,” Patrick smiled. He watched David squirm and rearrange, bending his legs then straightening them out, curling to the side then his back. “Okay, I’m gonna try to get some sleep. If he’s gonna call you before everyone wakes up, that means you’ll only get a few hours tonight, too.” He walked over, looking at David expectantly. 

“What?” His smile peaked through in the creases on his face. 

“I’m obviously not gonna let you sleep on the couch. You’re not comfortable, and I’m shorter,” he added with a little disgruntlement. “You need rest if you’re gonna deal with Sebastian first thing in the morning.” 

David beamed. “And they say chivalry is dead.” David stood up, straightening his shirt by the bottom hem. “Thank you.”

“Ya know, you could have just said you were gonna take the bed earlier, and I would have given it to you.” 

“I know, but I wanted to appear gentlemanly for, like, a second. I was kind of banking on you doing this. So, a win-win for me.” Patrick shook his head, smiling. 

They had settled in, Patrick wasn’t even upset he was sleeping on a couch, as it was the most comfortable couch he’d ever laid upon. The storm raged outside: wind rapping on the windows, trees shushing the storm, thunder splitting the air in half. He didn't know how he’d sleep. He’d have to try, though. He looked toward David, trying not to stare— admire— as he settled into bed, leaving his book on the nightstand and turning out the light.

“Goodnight, Patrick,” David murmured. 

“Goodnight, David.” 

But he didn’t sleep, not really. He thought to go scope out the hallway, make a plan for how he’d position himself while David was talking to Sebastian, but then, he didn't know if he should. He would have to trust David’s relay of information of it…

Then he stopped thinking about the case and went back to David. Every night it seemed like there was something else to think about, to dwell on or consider. David had become a wishing well Patrick tossed all his change into, waiting to see if David noticed the splash every time a new coin landed. He lapped his mind twenty times, agonizing with whether David would ever want him, would ever pick up one of those coins and take it for keeps. 

Twenty minutes of mental acrobatics had passed. The thunder and lightning was still lively outside the window. 

“...Patrick?” 

“Yeah?” His stomach twisted. 

“You’re not gonna, like, wake up crying in the middle of the night are you?” 

“I really wish I never told you that.” 

“Well, you did.”

“Sweet wieners, David.”

“I deserved that.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Elliot realized after writing and perfecting the holster scene that there is actually no such thing as a gun holster like that, she had confused it with a different kind. But we decided, for the sake of the fic, to keep it. I feel so powerful knowing I can type whatever I want in here and she just has to accept it, at least for the next few hours! I hope you're enjoying the fic as much as I am; it's so good! And while she complains about it the whole time, I really can't believe she is coming up with everything pertaining to the case ON THE FLY! Her mind! Comments and kudos are always appreciated :)


	6. Apprehended

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion of the case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'ALL TAKE THIS TRASH AND BE DONE WITH ME. THIS BITCH IS DONE. I'm the bitch, but also the fic is the bitch. You already know I hate this and think its terrible. Please, enjoy my trash.

Guess what? David was utterly fucked. Gone with the wind fucked. Over the moon fucked. Head over heels fucked. Why? Because he was pretty certain he liked Patrick...or maybe more than liked him? Not loved him, because we’re not going there right now. But he was definitely bobbing between  _ here _ and  _ there _ . The truth of his feelings swept him up like a flood and he surrendered to it; he could see his heart barreling down the road like a garbage can, littering its contents around, spewing up its questionable insides, exposing damaged goods. That got dark; he was being dramatic. But the truth of the matter was he knew he liked Patrick. He didn’t know if he should or if it was even allowed, but feelings don’t care about that.

The storm slapped against windows and, despite how comfortable the bed was, David couldn’t sleep; be it from the storm or the man sleeping on a couch fifteen feet away from him. David’s mind bounced from one thought to the next, stopping abruptly when it got to Sebastian and circling back to Patrick. He thought to pop a pill, just to lull him to sleep, but Sebastian would be texting in mere hours and he couldn’t sleep through it. 

Ripping himself from his thoughts, Patrick’s phone started ringing, making David flinch. Patrick was sound asleep, and David quietly prayed he would wake up on his own so he didn’t have to do it. But,  _ of course, _ that didn’t happen. 

“Fuck.” 

Whipping the blankets off, David marched over to Patrick and swiped the phone off the floor.  _ Jocelyn Smith _ — and he thought Patrick Bricker was a bad code name. He glanced at Patrick, sleeping beautifully (turns out, neither of them need beauty rest, they’re both born that way.) The phone kept going and David felt horrible but he had to wake Patrick up. Shaking his shoulders subtly, David liked the way they felt: sleep heavy and doughy. 

“Patrick,” he whispered, adding a bit more force. Soft and relaxed like this, his shoulders weren’t tense as they had been all night when David took every opportunity to rub them. “Patrick, your phone.” He only stirred minorly but didn’t open his eyes. “Patrick!” he whacked his arm; desperate times. 

“Huh, what?” Patrick shot up militantly and startled David. 

“Ah!” Flinching back, David shrieked. “ _ Jocelyn Smith _ is calling you.” 

“Shit.” Patrick grabbed the phone, squinting at the brightness.

“No, I know, but I was using her code name.” 

Patrick answered hastily, rolling his neck and rubbing his shoulder. “Hi, yeah, sorry.” 

Pinching the bridge of his nose before blinking rapidly, Patrick yawned a bit. There was water on the nightstand so David grabbed and brought it back over to Patrick.

“Okay, so what does that mean? The stuff is there?” Patrick said to Jocelyn.  _ Thanks, _ he mouthed at David, taking a big swig and David watched his neck as he swallowed it down. “Alright, well, stay on it and let me know. Alexis will be okay, this is what she’s trained— well not trained for but you know what I mean. — Alright, bye.” 

“Everything okay?” 

Patrick scrubbed his face. He had only been asleep for a handful of hours and David felt bad. By the way he kept moving his shoulders, David knew it was uncomfortable on the couch. Tentatively, he sat down next to him. He wanted to rub his back or squeeze his shoulders, but it wasn’t appropriate, not now. He didn't have an excuse or a room of people to fool. It was just them in the quiet dark and somehow that made it harder to resist. 

“I don’t know,” he sighed honestly. “Brody is at his jewelry store, Alexis took out the guard, but he smashed her phone before she got him tied up, and now I just—” he flexed his fists. “I don’t know, I have a feeling this is all going the wrong way.” 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean if Alexis manages to get the vault open and secure the jewels without making a fuss or alerting security, then maybe we have a chance to secure Sebastan before anyone is onto me. But I don’t think she can do that, and I have no way to get down there and tell her to hold off until we talk to Sebastian.” 

David ran his hands down his thighs, nodding and focusing on Patrick’s hands as they twisted together in his lap.

“I have to think about what approach I’m gonna take here, but I’m—” he sucked in his breath, fisting his hands. “I’m tired and I can’t think and the storm is…” he trailed in frustration, David could tell he didn’t want to complain. 

Stress radiated off Patrick and instead of seeping into David like osmosis, he went a different way, he resumed a role he didn’t know he was capable of. Patrick had been nothing but assertive and focused the entire weekend; he had spit directions at Ronnie and Jocelyn like David’s fantasy come true; he had been a step ahead of everything, and he made the right calls again and again. Losing confidence now wasn’t an option— at least as far as David was concerned. So he reserved himself to helping lead Patrick back on track.

“Okay, so what if we go down to Alexis and tell her?” 

“What?” 

“Well, tell me what’s wrong with that plan,” David prompted.

“Because it would be suspicious and I can’t guarantee no one would see us.” 

“What if I sneak into Sebastian’s room now and get the details on the drugs?”

“I’m not gonna have you booty call Sebastian for this, we’ll deal with him as planned.”

“Okay, we’re not saying  _ booty call _ ever again.” 

Patrick stood up to pace, contorting his back to work out the kinks, and David silently praised the way he looked in his pajama pants— then praised himself for picking them out. A weird enjoyment blossomed as he watched Patrick think; he could practically see the thoughts floating above his head, waiting for Patrick to grab one. 

“Her phone!” Patrick walked over to his, like, caboodle of FBI gadgets or whatever it was. “Alexis’s phone is tapped. I can get into it from this one.” He pulled out another phone and a wire. Connecting the wire to the phone and the other end to a hard drive, Patrick synced the two.

“Okay, first of all, that’s creepy and you better not have done that with my phone. Second of all, if I see a  _ single _ nude photo of my sister, I’m going to sue you right before killing myself. And third of all—” his tone became a bit breather, quietly indignant. “Open her emails because I’m pretty sure she’s been corresponding with an enemy of mine, and I need proof.”

“Sure, David, and while I’m at it would you like me to book a spa treatment on her credit card?” 

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind!”

Ignoring David, Patrick got into the phone, opening up her texts and finding Body’s number. “Even though her phone is smashed…” he spoke with quiet distraction as he explained. “I can route hers through to this one, and see if Brody has contacted her. Maybe reach out to him.” 

“And say what?” 

“I don’t know ‘You were looking for me, what do you want?’” 

“And where will that get us?” David wasn’t being condescending, he was genuinely interested in where Patrick’s head was at. 

“It just gives us a bearing on the situation— an idea of where his head’s at, and we can try to anticipate his next move. If she hasn’t heard from him, we can start a conversation. He  _ does _ know that she’s tied up— he’d have to know by now. But I want him to believe she doesn’t think he’s onto her.”

“Why?” 

“There’s no way for him to know that Alexis detained that guard, if she starts texting him, he’d realize. That’s gonna force him out of his hiding spot and he’ll need to make a move. My gut instinct is that he’s gonna dump this all on Sebastian. I have units waiting to pick him up as soon as he leaves his hiding spot. If he runs, we got him. Then that leaves us with just Sebastian.” 

“What if Sebastian finds out Brody was arrested and panics?” 

“He won’t find out.” 

“How do you know that?” He was always so confident and David admired that about it.

“Because Ronnie is good at her job and it’s the middle of the night. It’ll all happen very quietly.” 

David loved watching Patrick’s confidence come back, he wore it better than a blue sweater. “Okay, gimme the phone. You can’t sound like Alexis, you’re far too smart.” 

“You know you just insulted yourself by offering to do it.” 

“Um, no! I’m just  _ very _ good at impersonating her because I,  _ unfortunately _ , have lived with her for most of my life.” 

They sat down on the edge of the bed together, Patrick hovering. Watching him clamp his shoulders with his hand made David feel kind of guilty that he didn’t just make the couch work for himself before Patrick insisted on taking it. 

_ Sent [3:27am]: omg, david just told me you were looking for me, so sweet. what’s up?  _

There was a gravid moment while they waited for Brody to respond. David felt the tension stack between them, growing thick in his throat. Sitting in a dark room, with the remains of a storm trickling outside, was not the ambiance he needed right now. It was too much like every romantic comedy he’d seen, and it created the idea that this could be one, too:  _ a moment.  _

“You don’t have to stay up and do this, ya know. You can go to bed.” Patrick finally spoke. 

“Well, I’m up now.” 

“You never slept.” 

That surprised David. “How do you know?” 

“Because I’m a detective, David.” His face was smug and perfect, and David wanted to hate him for how good he looked, even with bed head. 

“Are you always so cocky or is this something I bring out in you?” That came out wrong, but Patrick didn’t seem to mind.

**Received [3:28am]: The day you saw me at the pool, you weren’t just getting a towel, and the day you came into the store, you weren’t looking for jewelry. Then I got to thinking. Alexis Rose was in Morocco, and Brazil, and Argentina, and Japan. Wanna tell me why?**

“Throw that in the evidence pile!” David celebrated. 

“That’s good, yeah ...Try to keep him talking.”

“Okay, by saying what?” 

“Something about why those locations are important, why did he pick out those specific ones.”

“Okay, lemme just…” 

Patrick’s knee began bobbing while David channeled Alexis. Flippant and dumb sometimes, sure, but she was also strategic, at least with things like this. It had to come out nonchalantly, with a dose of accusation; David began typing. 

“What are you saying?” David ignored him. “Tell me what you send before you send it— Don’t give away anything.” David reached out, placing a finger on Patrick's mouth then his own lips. “Please, shh.” He didn’t even care about the look Patrick gave him, or the ghostly feeling of lips on his fingertips. 

_ Sent [3:30am]: umm ok stalker. i actually was just getting a towel and i literally left your store because i remembered the diamonds you lent my mom for the emmys were like a gross clarity.  _

_ Sent [3:30am]: and im sorry i travel brody like what am i supposed to do? sit home with david all day, ew. why do you even care where i was, and how do you even know? that’s like creep, brody. like call the cops creepy. _

**Received [3:31am]: You wouldn’t know what to tell them. **

“Okay, so that’s creepy as fuck.” 

“Tell him you do. I’m getting this guy  _ tonight.” _ David smiled, Patrick’s tone making the blood rush up his legs; now’s not the time, though.

_ Send [3:31am] i wouldn’t be so sure about that.  _

“There.” David handed the phone back. 

“Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

Getting back to his own phone, Patrick called up who David expected was Ronnie, and filled her in on everything, heading back to the couch. He told her to keep an eye out for Brody and to alert him of any movement. When he hung up, David watched him try to get comfortable on the couch again, struggling. 

“Patrick, just come in the bed, it’s fine.” 

“What? No. I said you can have it.” 

“And I intend on keeping it,” David chirped. “It’s a California King, you’re practically in a different time zone on the other side of the bed.”

It was hard to read Patrick’s expression at first, it wasn’t hesitant exactly, and it wasn’t disinterested either. It was kind of fearful...or maybe hopeful? Whatever it was, it made David’s stomach expand. Idly he wondered if he himself would sleep better with Patrick beside him. 

“I’m not gonna listen to you crack your neck and complain about your shoulder for the rest of the weekend— come on.” 

When Patrick walked over, David’s heart clamped. He climbed into the bed, settling on the left side. They were as far apart as the bed would allow, but David felt the heat spread beneath the sheet. The drumming in his ears, the thrill in his blood, the comfort ofbeing near him, he could get addicted to it and he shouldn’t. 

“Goodnight, David.” 

“Night, Patrick.”

  
  


** 

It was still dark when David stirred, maybe only an hour had passed, and he heard Patrick on the phone, trying to be quiet. Then a dip in the mattress. Blearily, he saw Patrick edge closer to him, his middle felt like it looped around. There was a chance this was all fake, too; just a dream. But was it? A hazy moment that blended with reality, fogging his vision and blurring his feelings. Or is it real? Something about the way his nerve endings tingle in this half-dreamy state told him all he needed to know. 

When the mattress moved again, David slit his eyes open and Patrick was facing him, sleeping soundly. Minutely, David felt his lips tug up as if it was automatic. Even in his sleep, Patrick elicited a reaction; David wondered if he was stamped somewhere in his subconscious. 

The door opened a crack, and David hardly opened his eyes for the light that streaked the ground. Lingering in a semi-unconsciousness, he still heard the muffled talking, just aware enough to see the outline of Patrick. Reality tunneled, heavy with sleep. A moment later, the bed was disturbed and Patrick was back, fingertips brushing along David’s. He had enough sense not to hold his hand, or maybe he didn’t. Before he had time to comprehend anything, he was asleep again.

When he woke up again, and for good, the room wasn’t lit up completely, just the beginning of a hazy dawn. Patrick was still lying next to him and David  _ was _ holding his hand. Gripped by a weird fear, he minorly panicked. Carefully, he attempted to untangle their fingers without waking Patrick up, but the room was so quiet that he thought his heartbeat might be loud enough to do so. Patrick shifted and David screwed his eyes shut, prickling with anxiety. Finally, he wiggled his hand free and when he did, Patrick sleepily reached out for it, waking up when he came up empty. 

Cursing whatever God was in charge of his humility this weekend, David quietly offered a “hi,” with red cheeks. 

“Hey,” Patrick’s tired voice was gritty and heavy and David wanted to live in it. 

“Sorry, did I wake you up?” he whispered. 

“Uh, no, no. I was— I need to get up anyway.”

“Oh, okay,” David hushed out. Suddenly aware of how close they were, David felt the blood rush from his ears to his toes; Patrick made no attempt to get out of bed. 

When Patrick looked at his lips, then his chest, then back to his eyes, David wanted to melt into the mattress. For all the worrying he did about how he looked in the morning, it all disappeared when he saw the way Patrick looked at him. The silence grew alongside the anticipation that slapped David awake. The eye contact spoke more than they could, and David got to thinking that there was another wordless thing he wanted to say. Leaning in, but hesitating enough for Patrick to back out if he wanted to, David calculated the risk. Patrick didn’t move away, though. The next thing he knew he stretched practically across the bed and onto Patrick’s lips. With his hand gliding up his neck and around to the back of his head, David held him there. There was no act to present, this was just them. The reaction was different as well, it felt different in his chest, on his skin, on his lips. It made him want to fall off the bed, off a cliff, and keep falling until he forgot what it was like to know gravity. 

Patrick pushed into the kiss, twisting towards David in the bed. He felt the tension melt away as he kissed back; the grip he had on David’s arm persisted though, and David wasn’t sure if Patrick was aware he was doing it. Consumed, David wanted to pull him in, closer and closer, until they were a tangled mess off sheets and limbs, but he didn't. Pulling off, David couldn’t hold back his smile, holding eye contact with Patrick for an extended moment then he looked away when the silence became too heavy. 

“I have to go...get ready.” 

Patrick left David there. Alone. In the bed. By himself. 

Twisted up, David’s breath left him until he felt hollow. He had  _ grossly _ misread the situation and embarrassment didn’t sit well with him. A part of him wanted to cry and another part wanted to run. Hell, a part of him wanted Sebastian to text him right now so he didn’t have to be here when Patrick got out of the bathroom.

“Fuck,” David said under his breath when Patrick closed the door to the bathroom. Grabbing a pillow, he covered his face and contemplated smothering himself.

Then his phone vibrated on the nightstand and instantly he regretted wishing Sebastian would text him. But it wasn’t Sebastian, it was Stevie. He didn’t know if that was worse. 

**Received [7:09am]: Greetings from across the world. The blue painting that looks vaguely like a vagina sold today. I’m here doing my best friend duties and checking to see if you’re still alive. **

_ Sent [7:09am] Well, not for much longer because I might be killing myself later.  _

**Received [7:10am] That upset about the vagina leaving, huh? **

_ Sent [7:11am] No, and can you please stop saying vagina, I just woke up.  _

_ Sent [7:11am] I kissed the guy.  _

**Received [7:12am] The guy? The FBI agent? Patrick? **

**Received [7:12am] What happened? **

_ Sent [7:13am] We shared a bed last night and when we woke up I thought I felt a vibe so I leaned in. We kissed. Then he said he had to take shower and ran into the bathroom. Like, literally ran.  _

**Received [7:14am] Is it possible he was on boner patrol? **

_ Sent [7:14am] I’m going to block your number. And no, I don’t think so. He seemed shaken? Like he didn’t know what to do.  _

**Received [7:15am]: Maybe he didn’t. I reacted that way the first time Alyssa kissed me.**

He hated her most of all for giving him hope. 

_ Sent [7:16am] Well, I can’t ask him about it now. He is under an extreme amount of stress from this case and I think I just made it 10x worse. I’m just gonna go back to business as usual.  _

**Received [7:16am]: Good luck, Detective Rose. **

He set his phone down and scrubbed his face. Business as usual, he’s not gonna bring anything up, it’s gonna be fine. He got out of bed and started choosing an outfit. He knew he was fucked when he couldn’t concentrate on what to wear, and that’s saying something because he only wears two colors. 

He wasn’t going to bring anything up to Patrick, he knew that, but that didn’t mean he was going to stop torturing himself with relentless thoughts about it.

It was the weekend, maybe the whole week, that got to his head. On top of being wildly mortifying, it was also kind of pathetic. David thought the one person who gave him the slightest bit of positive attention— for his job— was into him. He should have known by the mid-ranged denim on the first day that that was not the case. Fuck. He really wanted to crawl into the closet and never come out; suddenly, he understood his mother a little better. 

He had no idea how long he was trapped in his mind for— minutes, hours— but when the bathroom door opened it was like he came out of a trance. He grabbed whatever was in front of him and headed toward the bathroom. Patrick’s hands were deep in his pockets, he looked different, maybe because he had scrubbed the last twenty minutes off his body; David wouldn't have blamed him.

“So...” Patrick stopped him.

“So…” David tried to seem as nonchalant as possible. 

“Uhm,” Patrick cleared his throat. “So, I talked to Ronnie while you were sleeping and, uh, Brody was taken into custody shortly after your texts with him, Sebastian is none the wiser.” He was glad Patrick wanted to get back to work, as well. “And Jocelyn has secured his phone to keep the communication going between them. Sebastian stopped by earlier this morning, but I told him you were sleeping—” 

“Why’d you do that? I was supposed to do my thing.” He had exactly one moment to really shine this weekend and he was robbed!

“Because you were tired and now that I have Brody handled, I think we can take our time with Sebastian and really get the most out of him.” 

“And what about Alexis?” 

“She’s fine,” he promised. “She’s trying to get the code for the vault. She’s gonna start pressing the guard for more information, nothing she can’t handle.” 

“Anything else? Did the third world war happen?”

“No, that’s it,” Patrick smirked. “Well— one other personal triumph.” 

“What’s that?”

“I called Rachel.” 

“Oh.” He was not expecting that. It didn’t feel like the right time, what with a sting operation and all. “How— how’d that go?” He’s intrigued, sue him. 

“I think it was a conversation we needed to have. She seemed understanding, supportive even.” 

“Wish I could be that supportive about my own breakups,” he quipped. 

“Yeah, well, she’s a good person, better than me anyway.” 

“That’s hard to believe.” Reddening, David walked across the room to his suitcase. He was tired of letting things slip with Patrick, giving him clues that could build the case of his feelings.

“Yeah, well…” Patrick trailed. 

There was a silence that was more awkward between them than they had previously. Patrick’s intentions were hard to sort and David didn’t want to dwell on them anymore. Setting his focus on the case, he moved on. “So what’s next?”

“I think Twahid wants everyone to go to some planetarium thing he set up in his ‘viewing room’ tonight. You should plan to meet up with Sebastian then, he’ll feel safer knowing everyone’s there.” 

“Okay, I can text him...and where will you be when I’m with him.” It was almost embarrassing, how good it felt to have Patrick in his ear last night. He felt stealth, yes, but it was also nice to feel like he wasn’t alone, to have this person— this Patrick— there to comfort him.

“Close.” His voice sounded like a promise and David didn’t want to get attached to it— to hang onto his voice like a lifeline, hoping it would pull him to safety. No one ever had before and it was likely no one ever would. He’d drown before that happened.    
  
  


After David was ready, they headed down into Twahid’s dining hall. Breakfast was a welcomed reprieve. It was simple, getting back into the groove with Patrick. He really was great at his job, and David commended him for it. But he was struggling to compartmentalize what had happened in bed and this, being a fake couple. At one point, Patrick placed his hand on David’s leg to give it a squeeze and David’s blood changed course. Looking around, he realized that Sebastian was watching, so that must have been why he did it. It was fine.

After breakfast. they were herded out to the lawns for the auction portion of the weekend. This was the main focus of the weekend. Rich people only have events like this to take money from friends. As if it was instinct, he and Patrick walked out arm in arm. Patrick looked good. The clothes David had picked out fit him perfectly, jeans snug and fitted perfectly through his legs. Admittedly, he was worried about the sweater, the blue being a little bolder than Patrick was used to, but it look very nice.

“What did you do before?” David asked, surprising himself. “If you can tell me.” 

Patrick glanced around. People weren’t paying attention, Patrick still hadn’t quite grasped that. All the people at this party are so absorbed with themselves that they hardly pay attention to their surroundings. “Nothing, really. My dad had this job and it's kinda like a family thing, I guess.” 

They strolled by tables, scoping things out. It was mostly jewelry and David kinda felt bad Alexis was locked in a dungeon, unable to bid; he threw an offer out on a necklace he thought she’d want. “Do you like it? Or do you ever wish you did something else?” It felt like getting to know Patrick, like a conversation you’d have on a date or something, and that felt dangerous. 

“Yeah, more now than in the past. I know I'm good at it, which helps." 

"So glad to know you keep yourself grounded," David joked and Patrick smirked. 

“What about you, art Galleries?” 

He felt wrong admitting he hadn’t thought much about the gallery this week. “I think sometimes it's the only thing I care about, and other times it feels very minuscule.” A revelation David was having in real-time. He had stuffed all his love into the gallery, but he’s now noticing the cracks in the foundation. First when Stevie came along, now Patrick. They’re making it easier to invest in people more than canvases. 

“That’s understandable. We all don’t love what we do all the time.” 

“I want to, though,” David admitted for the first time. “There just isn’t an opportunity to create something that matters for  _ this _ clientele,” he gestured to the people around him. “They’ve got the depth of a puddle and care about nothing but themselves.” Listen, he realized he used to be them— maybe still is. But more and more, he's tearing himself away from them. “Oh, this is nice.” He looked at a watch and put a bid in.

“So, is this just all Twahid's stuff?” Patrick asked.

“Yeah,” David lowered his voice. “Finding nice pieces is like spotting a unicorn. They’re very ...eclectic. And I’m not using that as a compliment.”

“Oh, I’ve realized what a David Rose compliment sounds like by now, but thanks for the disclaimer.”    


“That’s why he has events like this, to trap us into buying his stuff. It's like a hostage situation or something, and we have to pay our own ransom.” David turned his face down at a bracelet on the table. His phone vibrated in his pocket. “Hold on.” It was his mom, finally. 

“Hello?” he sounded annoyed before he had reason to. 

_ “David? David, could you come down to the foyer, please. It seems as though Maureen has been abducted, Adelina says you were the last person seen with her.” _

“Okay, first of all, of all your wigs, _ Maureen _ is the last one I’d take. Second of all, I’m not home— I’m in Dubai!” 

_ “If you’re not home than what was that woeful sobbing I heard coming from your sleeping quarters earlier?”  _

“I don’t know!” David’s voice climbed up. “Maybe Adelina was watching telenovelas again— or there’s, like, a sad troll living in it.” 

“ _ Very well then, I’ll call Alexis...do you have her number?”  _

“She’s here, too!”.

_ “Look at my children, galavanting around the world! Well, have fun, dear.”  _

“Goodbye.” With a sour expression, he hung up and shoved his phone in his pocket. 

“Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, just my mom,” David rolled his eyes. 

“Your mom didn’t know you were across the world?” 

“It’s probably for the best, I wouldn’t want her to worry. I mean, she wouldn’t worry about Alexis, but me, yeah, probably.” 

“Stay humble, David.”

“Don’t pretend like you’re mom doesn’t like you best.” 

“She has no choice, I’m an only child.” 

“That explains so much.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“It means you’re nice, respectable,” David hoped he wasn’t blushing. “People with siblings can’t be any of those things.” 

Patrick cast down his smile before looking back over at David. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re a good person, too.” 

“Yeah, but that’s not nice.” 

“It’s something, though,” Patrick teased.

David squinted a bit, looking skeptical. “Gonna need you to say  _ nice,"  _ he said, using his fingers to emphasize his point. 

“You’re a  _ good  _ person, David.” He squeezed David in a sideways hug, gripping his arms a little before letting go.

“Okay!” David liked how the morning’s tension had dissipated. They were back to being themselves...or pretending to be themselves...the version of themselves that were supposed to like each other.

For the rest of the auction, Patrick mostly kept tabs on Sebastian while David dreaded having to meet with him later. Nothing was said about the kiss or the bed or the fleeing of the scene. As much as David wanted to bring it up, it would break whatever they had going now and he didn't want that. It was okay to touch his shoulders and hold his hand and rub his back again. Foolish, maybe, for David to get swept up in it again, but it was just too easy. And Patrick did the same. He touched David like his hands belonged there, that his hips were Patrick’s to hold. 

The auction went on and David didn’t get the necklace for Alexis, but oh well, he got the watch he had bid on for himself. He thought it was nice on the table, but once he had it in his hand, maybe not. Life was grim when not even the serotonin of shopping helped. He hoped lunch would be his turn around, food always helped. Not to mention he was still exhausted from last night, he had hardly slept, and the mental and emotional rollercoaster he had been on wasn’t helping.

“Are you okay?” Patrick asked as they were walking back inside. 

“Hungry, tired,” David answered, his tone hung low. 

“Do you want to nap? It’s still a few more hours before the thing, you can head up. It gives me time to sneak away to the van.” 

“What?! You can’t leave me here by myself! To do—” 

“Shh,” Patrick stepped in front of him, with a placating hand, darting his eyes around. 

“To do that!” David whispered sharply. 

“I might have to. I need to get Brody’s phone." Patrick guided David towards a private corner. “It’s gonna be fine, I promise. You’ll be asleep, you won’t even notice I’m gone.” 

Yes, he would. “What if someone sees you leave? Then I’m here— your accomplice! There’s no telling what they’d do to me!”

“Absolutely nothing is going to happen to you,” Parick promised, with his hands on David’s arms, subtly rubbing them with his thumb. “No one will see me. I’m gonna go out through the kitchen—” 

“The kitchen?! Who are you— James Bond at his favorite restaurant?” 

“It’s the only way to get through to the back without anyone seeing me.” 

“How do you know?” 

“I talked to the girl on the staff here, Safa,” Patrick revealed. 

What was David gonna do, argue with an FBI agent? No. He didn’t like it, for a myriad of reasons, but there was nothing he could do about it. He was also painfully aware that he had no right caring; Patrick wasn’t his to care about. With crossed arms, he relented. “Fine…and on your way back in, can you grab a souffle and maybe one of those brownie things from last night?” 

“Sure, David,” Patrick smiled, sliding his hands down David's arms. 

**

It surprised David, how quickly he fell asleep. He dreamt about a few different things, but Patrick was always there; he hoped that would stop after the weekend. The last thing he needed was to be dreaming about a flash-in-the-fan fling that only happened because it was arranged by the government, haunting him for months to come. He woke up, God knows how many hours later, and Patrick was sitting at the couch with his laptop open on the coffee table and wearing another impeccable suit. More importantly, there was food next to him. 

“What time is it?” he yawned. 

“A little after eight, you slept through dinner, but I had food sent up for you,” Patrick said distractedly. 

“Oh, okay, thanks.” David meandered over to the food and started eating quietly. “What time do I have to be down there?” 

Without looking away from the computer, Patrick answered curtly. “About an hour.”

David knew he had no right to be upset, Patrick was working, but still, it felt weird. He thought during the auction they had gotten back to some sense of normalcy. But now that they’re alone again, it appeared it really was just for show to Patrick. 

“More work?” David asked so the silence wouldn’t swallow him up.

“Yeah, there’s just a lot of paperwork and I’m trying to get ahead of it so I can take time off after this.”

David nodded. Not only did Patrick run away from him this morning, he’s wrapping up paperwork so he doesn’t have to debrief him afterward either, and can get the hell out of dodge. Great. His appetite was gone. “Well, I’ll go get ready then.” He headed across the room.

“Okay— oh, and, David?” 

Turning on his heels, David answered. “Yeah?” 

Patrick went to speak, but David saw him pull back. The mental acrobats were clear by the expression on his face, it made David’s stomach prickle. “Uh, I went to see Alexis, and uh, she’s okay.” 

“Oh, Okay,” David nodded. “Is that it?” 

“Yeah.” Rubbing his legs, Patrick nodded. 

David took more time in the shower than was strictly necessary but he deserved it. Mostly he worried that he may have ruined whatever friendship he could’ve had with Patrick. It was silly, thinking he could be friends with this guy anyway. What was he gonna do? Travel around the world with the FBI, tagging along with Patrick while he’s catching criminals? No. David had a life waiting for him in New York, and if not a life, at least he had Stevie. God, he missed Stevie. This whole thing is a disaster. He wondered if Stevie would come with him if he did decide to travel with the FBI; Alexis did it, no reason he couldn’t. If that were the case, he’d definitely want Stevie to come. And she would, because she doesn’t really have a life in New York either, maybe that’s why they’re perfect for each other.

***

After the after-dinner cocktail hour, David had a job to do. Turns out, Planetariums are pretty lame, one may even say garish. Honestly, David didn’t know what Twahid’s obsession with stars was about, but must he drag everyone else down with him? Despite it, though, he appreciated the darkness of the room. 

It was a theater room, Twahid had gone on for about twenty minutes about the installation of it, making it authentic, with tilted seats and dome ceilings. It reminded David exactly of his elementary school field trips. 

David was to sneak out of this presentation in fifteen minutes to meet Sebastian. It was all very orchestrated and precise. Patrick was in their room, waiting. David just had to bring Sebastian back into the room and start talking to him there. Easy, no stress, it’s fine.

David had sat through the life and times of Orian and his belt before his phone finally vibrated with a text from Sebastian, telling David to meet him in the hallway. Placing his nerves aside, David took a deep breath and shook the anxiety from his fingertips.

In the hallway, Sebastian was pacing the floor, looking manic and desperate; prayer hands covering his mouth. “David!”

“Yeah?” 

“Don’t look so disappointed,” Sebastian put on an act. He was trying to appear put together but it missed the mark. 

“I’m not, just nervous,” he said stupidly. “Ya know, committing a felon—” 

“Sh!” Sebastian snapped. “Can we go somewhere a little more private?” 

David looked around, putting on an act himself. “Uh, my room is open, Patrick is still in there,” he gestured to the planetarium room. 

“Okay, yeah.”

Quickly, David text Patrick telling him they were heading up. Once they were in the room, Sebastian began pacing. “Okay, I need to set you up for the trade.” He dove right into it.

“Okay?” David didn’t mean to sound so unsure.

“Brody fucked me over—bad.” 

“Oh, really? Can’t imagine what that feels like,” David responded dryly. Now wasn’t the time for personal jabs, but then again, it was always the time for personal jabs.

“But you wouldn’t, would you?”

“No, I’m a regular Prince Charming coming to your rescue.” He was starting to make himself sick. 

“I always knew I could count on you, David.” 

“Yeah, let’s get into that.” David crossed his arms. “What exactly do you need me to do?” 

Sebastian walked a small circle, running his hands around his mouth. “Okay. There are replicas of Crown Jewels in Twahid’s safe.”

“Okay…” David didn't know if he was convincing enough. “What is Twahid doing with a bunch of rip off jewelry?” 

“Brody put it there. I’m not sure if Twahid knows— I don’t think he does. Brody runs the basement here, and— I don’t know. This whole operation has gotten out of hand.” 

“What operation?” David’s arms flew around.

“Brody makes counterfeit jewelry of Crown Jewels. He exchanges drugs for the real deal, then gives the people the fakes to replace them.” 

“And what is it you do, exactly?” David pressed, feeling like a professional interrogator.

“At first, I just moved product, I never touched the jewels, but now I have to.” He looked at David frantically, pleading. 

“You mean I have to?” David dragged his hands down his face. Sebastian didn’t look apologetic, per se, but he looked like he was pretending to appear so. “It’s fine— It’s just a lot.” David played the game. 

“Thank you, David.” It sounded like shattering glass compared to the way Patrick has said it. 

“Yeah, well, don’t thank me yet. I still have to do it,” he said flippantly. “Where is everything?” 

Sebastian leaned in to kiss him and David stopped him. “We’re not done here,” he snipped. “I need to know everything before  _ this _ —” he gestured between them, “is happening.” 

“There’s a yellow Hummer parked out front, it’s the only one there.” Sebastian dug into his pocket for the key. “Everything you need is in the trunk.” 

“So subtly wasn’t an option, then?” David mused about the car.

“It’s all I had.” 

“Okay, then what?” David tried not to sound annoyed, but it was hard. 

“I’m gonna alert the cops to you somehow. There’s only a pound or two of heroin in there, the rest will be with me.” 

“Okay...so I just have to pretend like I was going to hand this over to some Spanish person?” David questioned. “And what will you be doing?” 

“I like it when you worry,” Sebastian smiled, David wanted to gag. 

“Well, yeah. I know if you get caught your career ends, so I’d like to know what you’re doing, to see if  _ I _ have anything to worry about,” David explained. Unfortunately, he still showcases some of Sebastian’s pieces at the gallery. 

“I have my other car out back with the rest of the stuff. I have to go down to the safe room, get the fakes, and leave for Spain tomorrow morning.”

“And when do I have to play my part in all of this?” 

“Right after I leave, I need to get out of here first, if you get busted before I have a chance to leave, I’ll be stuck.” 

“Okay.” David thought Patrick would have come out by now to apprehend him, except he didn’t so now he didn’t know what to do. He certainly didn’t want to do what Sebastian had in mind. 

“Now we can get around to me thanking you?” Sebastian slipped right back into his snakeskin.

“Right now?!” 

“Why not? Patrick’s not here.” 

Hearing Sebastian say his name made his skin crawl; he wasn’t worthy enough to say it. “But he’ll be back soon.” 

“You’ve never shied away from a quickie.”

David subtly rolled his eyes and tossed his head around, “Later,” he said as if he had succumbed to Sebastian’s charm. 

“Okay, okay.” 

David had never seen Sebastian so compliant. Then again, he had gotten what he wanted so there was no need to keep coaxing anything out of David. When he sauntered out of the door, David rushed to the bathroom where Patrick was hiding. He felt gross. “I didn’t like that, I didn’t like that.” Shaking his hands, he paced. 

Patrick took off the headphones he was wearing. “Well, we got what we needed.” 

“The recording worked?” 

“Yeah.” Patrick nodded, eyes reflecting his satisfaction. “Did he seem to notice anything?” They had the wire hooked up to one of David’s sweaters that was draped on a chair, hidden inside it.

“No, Sebastian doesn’t notice anything but himself.” 

“That’s good.” 

“I feel like I need a shower or, I don’t know, a lobotomy.”

Patrick squeezed his arm, his touch replacing Sebastian's. David didn’t mean for his small smile to show, but it did. 

“Well, now you’re off the hook until tomorrow morning. So you can go have fun,” Patrick pulled his breath in towards the end, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah, nothing makes me want to let loose and have fun like my pending arrest.” 

“I’m not gonna arrest you— well, not for real anyway, but I will have to cuff you and do the whole charade.” 

There was no fun to be had as far as David was concerned, at least not for him. Not anymore. If last night had told him anything, it was that being with Patrick was more fun than he had had in a while. And it wasn’t just last night: it was the night before that, and the day before that. It was the lunch they had together, and the way they talked. It was the way he touched Patrick so easily, like he was meant to. It was how Patrick settled something in him, just by being a voice in his ear. It was that a week with Patrick outweighed a lifetime of anything else. 

“Cuffs, huh?” David joked. 

“Yeah, do you want them as a souvenir of your adventures— seems like something you could use in your night job.” 

“I might!” 

They walked out of the bathroom, David’s mind buzzing, reliving every touch, every feeling. A little confused, but with a dash of clarity. He was halfway across the room, Patrick on his tail when he whipped around. Bravery took hold of him. “Wait!” He halted, finger up and Patrick’s eyes followed it. “Sorry, I did not mean for it to come out like that.

“I don’t want to go out there! I’m sick of cocktail parties and dumb conversation! They aren’t fun for me. I just— I don't know. I like it better...in here...with you.” He knew his cheeks were red and he probably looked like an idiot.

“Oh.” Just barely, his lips tugged up, just enough to let David know he might be feeling the same way. “Well, I’m really glad I decided to go undercover with you, David.”

Nodding, David didn’t really know how to respond, his stomach twisted with anticipation for something that came out of nowhere. “Yeah, smart choice.”

“And I’m so glad I did, Patrick because you’ve been an exemplary agent.” 

“Hmm, is that right?” His smile screwed to the left, every nerve in his body vibrated. 

They locked eyes. The stare felt loaded, rooted in something more than a glance. Lust maybe, or— David thought— maybe— he didn’t know.

“About this morning…” Patrick began. 

“We don’t have to get into it.” David swished his hands in front of him dismissively. 

“I think we do,” Patrick pressed. “I didn’t mean to run off. I just...wasn’t expecting that.” 

“Well, if it makes you feel better, neither was I.”

“But I’m happy you did it…” 

“Oh.” That hit David like a tidal wave and his stomach crawled up into his neck.

“Last night, when Sebastian came around, I didn’t kiss you because it was my job...I did it because I wanted to...I wanted to all weekend...all week.” 

David wanted to bottle this feeling up, but he still had to ask. “Why?” 

“What?” Patrick seemed endearingly confused. “Why wouldn’t I?” 

“Most people regret it,” David self deprecated. 

“No, no. It felt like— It felt like you were the person I’ve been waiting to kiss, for a really long time.”

That was probably the most romantic thing David has ever heard, and it felt odd being directed at him, it didn’t feel earned. “Then why’d you run away?” 

“Because if I didn’t get up right then and there, I never would have, and I had to.”

“Oh.”

Patrick took a step, closing the space between them and getting his hands on David’s hips. Automatically, David wrapped his hands around Patrick’s back. The look in Patrick’s eyes was enough to make the blood rush up his legs and when he latched onto his lips, David was gone. With Patrick tightening his grip on David’s hips, it took all he had not to moan into the kiss, the verve rising from his stomach to his throat. He backed them up to the bed, with every intention of getting Patrick into, but Patrick pulled off hastily. 

“Okay, full disclosure. I’ve never done anything with a guy,” he let out briskly

“Oh, okay...do you want me to stop?” David would have, because unlike most people in his life, David respected boundaries. 

“No! No, but for the sake of honesty, I think you should know I have to to take it kinda slow.” 

David smiled, looking at Patrick the way he should have looked at the stars all weekend. “I can work with that.”

“But I do eventually want to do more...with you.” 

Heart filling, it nearly hiccupped in his chest. “Are you making future plans with me?” 

“Is that a crime?” 

“I don’t know, you tell me, Agent Brewer?” 

Shutting him up, Patrick kissed David again. This time, David enveloped him, holding him there. Bursting from the inside out, David didn’t realize how much he wanted this, wanted Patrick, not until he knew that he himself was wanted back.

“Should we go back downstairs?” Patrick asked quietly against David’s lips. 

“Not if we don’t want to...unless you want to?” 

“No, I  _ really _ don’t.”

David giggled as he got back to Patrick’s lips, loving the way Patrick’s hands skated along his back and up to his shoulders and gripped him tightly. When David hummed into the kiss, Patrick opened his mouth and the kiss got more fervent, a little rushed, like it was catching up to them. David felt all the blood rush to his middle, soon it would be very obvious how badly he wanted Patrick and he wasn’t entirely sure if that was okay right now. 

Surprising him, Patrick walked David back to the bed, still kissing him but it grew desperate. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” David rushed out. “I thought you wanted to go slow.” 

“I do, but I’d like to take it slow in the bed.” 

“Okay,” David smiled, swiveling his neck and stepping out of his shoes. 

Patrick took his jacket off and David did the same, they didn’t bother with anything else. Hopefully, nothing horrible happened to Tom Ford once they got into the bed, but it was a risk he was willing to take if it meant being with Patrick. 

It was almost as if the temperature of the room changed when they crawled into the bed. David’s heart hammered and he could tell Patrick’s was, too. They laid facing each other for a minute and David thought this was probably the most intimate thing he’d ever done with someone, looking into Patrick’s eyes, both of them knowing what they wouldn’t say. 

Patrick leaned forward, softer than before, and glided his hand along David’s jaw and thumbed his cheek before kissing him again. David savored it, feeling the goosebumps rise and fall as they rushed down his back. His hips rolled, not enough for Patrick to notice yet, but he knew that soon he would. He tried to contain himself, to have Patrick go at his own pace— and to his credit, he seemed just as eager, moving closer, with his hands roaming down to the small of David’s back. The reaction took over his spine, wrapped it in anticipation; he wanted to slow it down, stretch it out, but his body said differently.

Patrick was suddenly tugging David’s shirt from his pants, and maybe it wasn’t wise, but David let him, moaning as he did. Detaching from his lips, Patrick kissed his neck and got the rest of David’s shirt untucked as David ripped his tie off. 

“You have a weird definition of slow,” David said breathlessly as Patrick worked up his neck. 

“Just because I’m new to this doesn’t mean I don’t know what I like already,” He took his own tie off and tossed it…somewhere.

The idea of touching Patrick, even though he already was, took hold of David like a prayer. “Oh, well that makes sense.” And it did, Patrick probably had received enough to know what he enjoyed, which was great because David was eager to give. 

Patrick was trying to unbutton David’s shirt but he took over, impatiently. “Worry about yourself,” he said hastily. 

When there was nothing left but two pairs of expensive pants, a couple of undershirts and a bulletproof vest between them, Patrick took the vest off David carefully, lifting it up over his head; David felt like his heart had been exposed, suddenly Patrick would be able to feel how it beats for him. 

Breathlessly, Patrick skated his hand behind David’s neck, carding his fingers through his hair. Closing the space between their bodies, he pulled David in and connected their lips. David nipped at Patrick’s bottom lip, making him react instinctively, getting impatient. It was difficult to ignore how hard he himself had become, and Patrick was, too. Daringly, and he hoped it was okay, he reached down and palmed Patrick above his pants. When the moan fell out of his mouth, David took that as an incentive to keep going. Hearing the noises that felt from Patrick’s mouth was enough to make David react as well. Pulling off Patrick’s lips he dropped his head into the crook of his neck, kissing it sloppily. 

“David,” Patrick ushered out and David could have come from the way his voice sounded; soft yet thick, drenched in lust. 

Ruefully neglected, David let go of Patrick and decided to pull him on top of him. “Is this okay?” 

“Yeah— yes, it’s okay.” Patrick’s hands skated under the sides of David’s shirt. 

David hadn’t felt his hands on his skin since he was wired up, this time it was exactly how he hoped for that day: pressure and an eager grip. David moved his hips, egging Patrick on, and he complied. The friction of Patrick moving above him was enough for David, feeling Patrick against his leg and watching the way his eyes hooded. Wrapping his hands around Patrick’s shoulders, David’s fingertips arched. Panting heavily into his ear, David let himself get lost in what it would be like to be with Patrick, completely. How it would feel for Patrick to be inside him; touching him wasn’t enough, David wanted more. At the thought, Patrick’s hands traveled from his hips and moved up to cage his head.

“David,” he breathed out, huskily in his ear. 

“Fuck.” David rolled him over, kissing his neck. He wanted Patrick to come— he wanted to make Patrick come.

“David, I’m close.” 

“Can I?” David went for his belt. 

“I’m not a monk, David, I have been touched before— yes.” One handed, David undid his belt, smiling at how Patrick was able to needle him, even in these circumstances. 

“Alright, alright. A boy tries to be respectful.” 

Settling next to him, curling into him, David wrapped his hand around Patrick, starting slow and getting lost in the way Patrick’s head sank into the pillow, turning away. With his other hand, David pulled Patrick’s from where he gripped the sheets. “Hold onto me,” he whispered chastely, and Patrick squeezed his hand. David worked his wrist, swiping his thumb over the head and Patrick shuddered. He peppered him in lazy, breathy kisses on his neck, feeling Patrick’s pulse against his lips. 

It was only a matter of seconds before Patrick came. Both breathing heavily, David took a moment to peck Patrick when his smiley face turn toward him. Hating himself, he wiped his hand on one of the shirts. 

“Don’t you?” Patrick asked.

Blushing, David blew him off. “It’s fine.”

“I want to, it’s just—” 

“I promise you it’s fine,” David swore and kissed Patrick’s shoulder. “I do think I’m gonna go…” he gestured to the bathroom. “Clean up,” he added, but he was sure Patrick knew.   
  


“Yeah, yeah.” 

When David had taken care of his own needs, and both of them had changed and settled in for the night, they got back in bed. David couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. Patrick was clearly tired, and it was understandable. It surprised David how natural it felt being in bed with him. They had said goodnight, but David didn’t like the space between them; it was only a few inches, but he pressed himself against Patrick’s back and kissed the back of his neck. Just as he was drifting to sleep, Patrick reached back and grabbed David’s hand, draping it over himself. 

***

The sun assaulted the room, brighter than it should be. He sprang up and grabbed his phone, thinking he missed Sebastian’s text but, no, he didn’t. It shouldn’t be surprising that Sebastian blew him off. But in this instance, it might mean he had gotten wind of David’s involvement. He looked around, Patrick was nowhere to be found. This was it. Patrick had been compromised, probably dead somewhere, and David was next. His pulse accelerated, throbbing in his neck. This is why he didn’t do shit like this, he wasn’t Alexis. He knew something would go wrong and it did. Now he’s stuck in some royal adjacent house, with his drug lord ex boyfriend, and the feds have abandoned him! 

He clambered out of bed and ran to the closet, ready to pack up and bolt. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

“Hey,” Patrick greeted, coming out of the bathroom, looking (and smelling) fresh, wearing jeans and just an undershirt, hair damp. 

“Hi.” David relaxed.

“What are you doing?” Patrick smirked endearingly.

David looked at the bundle of clothes in his hands, then at Patrick, realizing his anxiety had gotten the better of him. “Oh, I was just...sorting these.” 

“Mmm,” Patrick nodded. “You thought the whole operation was compromised and someone was coming to kill you?” 

Screwing his smile to the side, David playfully glared. “Maybe, but that’s none of your business!” 

Patrick’s smile could cure cancer if they let it; he nodded into a kiss, and David liked how much Patrick liked kissing him. That was probably self-absorbed and a little conceited, but David had never been kissed by someone who kissed like Patrick. They made David feel cherished and safe. When he pulled off, David’s smile hurt his face.

“I had Safa bring you food,” Patrick said, and David thought he’d marry this guy.

Looking over at the tray on the coffee table, his mouth almost watered. “Getting even more acquainted with the staff, I see.” He mosied towards it.

“Yes, well, when you regard them like the human beings they are, they tend to extend the same kindness.” 

Prickling with guilt, David swallowed down the shame. “Well, thank you  _ and _ Safa then.” He took the lid off the silver tray, gaping at the abundance of food.

He watched Patrick get ready. How he buttoned his shirt and tucked it in, how he rolled his sleeves and undid the straps on his FBI vest— wait, what? “What are you doing?” 

“Uh, I’m getting ready to arrest you,” he answered. 

“You’re gonna walk out of the room in  _ that _ ?”

“No, I’m gonna have my jacket over it until we get outside, but I have to be wearing it when my cover is blown.” 

“Don’t get me wrong, I’ve literally been  _ dying _ to see you put that on— and it looks very good— I’m just worried that people are gonna notice something’s up when you walk down in the 102-degree weather in a jacket.”

“I’ve seen you wear no less than four wool sweaters this week.” 

“Okay, fine. You’re the professional, I’m merely a fashion icon.” 

“Icon’s a bit of a stretch,” Patrick teased. 

David shoved the top of his muffin into his mouth in lieu of answered, smiling. 

“And you’ve been waiting to see me in this all week, huh?” Patrick’s voice did that thing where it tented a little bit, and his face screwed into an expression that David had grown to lov— be fond of. 

“Why do you think I agreed to all this?” David smiled. 

“Noted.” Patrick finished up strapping the vest on, tugging the velcro straps snuggly and arranging his gun on the back of belt. He looked...very good. And now that he could, he got up and walked over to Patrick, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. 

“Don’t make the cuffs too tight,” he warned. “I might like it too much.” 

“Hmm. As much as I’d like to settle on that imagery, I need you to get ready.”

“Alright, alright.” He kissed him, because he could, and headed toward the closet.

“Alexis got into the safe, she emptied it last night.”

“That’s good,” David grabbed his clothes and the bulletproof vest. “Right?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what we needed.” He shrugged his coat on and zipped it up. “She’s gonna go out there with you.” 

Great, now he gets to see what all the fuss was about, he thought dryly. “Okay. And how exactly are you going to arrest me?” 

Patrick’s hands dove into his pockets. “Well, Ray’s here. He’s outside in an unmarked SUV, I’m gonna hand you off to him.” 

“What about Jocelyn and Ronnie?” 

“They’re going to the meetup location with the Spanish. Once Sebastian sees you’ve been apprehended before he leaves, he’ll try to flee and I’ll chase him. I really want this to be done quietly and not alert anyone.” 

“Don’t you have backup?!” 

“Yeah, Alexis.” 

“Well, that sounds  _ very _ unwise!” 

“It’s not, trust me.” Patrick gripped his arms and kissed him quickly. 

  
  


**

Alexis met him at the door and she was wearing the top half of the dress he had seen her in last, only now the bottom half was a jumpsuit; he realized the skirt was detachable and she must have taken it off to do...whatever it was that she does. Her hair was up in a ponytail now and, all things considered, it looked good. 

“Remember David, keep making moves,” she reminded as they walked out the door. 

“Have no choice, thanks Alexis,” he snipped but he didn’t mean it.

When David got outside, walking toward the Hummer, he was riddled with anxiety. He knew Patrick would be the one to arrest him, but still. It was nerve racking. Alexis didn’t help, talking like they were heading to brunch. 

“He was just gross,” she went on about the guard. “And his name was Sergio, which, like, could you be more predictable? He taped my mouth, David! I thought I was gonna rashy.,” she rambled.

“Alexis, shut up,” David gritted through his teeth. 

“Oh, my God, calm down, David.” She flipped her hair. 

“David!” Sebastian called from somewhere when he saw him walking towards the Hummer, but David didn’t look at him. 

“Just keep walking, David, keep walking,” Alexis muttered; she looked back. “He’s coming.” She spoke with her head down and David realized she was still wearing a wire. 

David took the keys to the Hummer out of his pocket and went for the trunk; Patrick was there waiting for him, FBI vest and all. It was hard not to react, not to smile. Every bit of nerves settling in him when he realized he was back to safety. There was nothing Sebastian could do now that the ball was rolling. 

Patrick pulled the cuffs out from his holster and pulled David’s wrists behind his back. “David Rose, you’re under arrest for the possession of heroin, conspiracy to commit robbery, conspiracy to distribute narcotics internationally, fifteen counts of fraud, and five counts of grand larceny.” He snapped the cuffs on and David really thought it was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to him; he held in his smile.

“Oh, my God, David!” Alexis played it up. “Excuse me!” she exaggerated toward Patrick, snapping her fingers in front of him.

“You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney—” Patrick continued, giving Alexis a face.

“If I can’t afford one, one will be provided for me.” David sassed. A small crowd had gathered on the front stairs, including Sebastian, watching David get arrested. Even from the distance, David could tell he was worried.

“Now’s not the time to show off your crime drama knowledge,” Patrick tried not to smirk. “Do you have any weapons or illegal substances on you?” Patrick asked, gently pressing David up against the car, facing it.

“You didn’t tell me there would be a frisk,” David teased. 

“Ew, David,” Alexis cringed. 

Patrick kicked his shoes a little, gesturing for him to widen his stance. 

“Okay! Careful with the shoes.” Then Patrick patted him down, making a big of a show about it. Thank God Alexis was there, and the crowd of people— some of which were recording it. Smoothly, he ran his hands down David’s legs, gripping his thighs a little tighter than was professional, David thought, but he didn’t mind. 

“Okay, we’re gonna take a walk,” Patrick directed them toward the End of the driveway, holding onto David by the cuffs. Ray was at the end of the driveway. And honestly, it was just as quiet as Patrick had said it would be.

“He’s going around back,” Alexis interrupted. “Patrick, GO!”

“Fuck.” That was the first time David had heard him curse, and honestly, sensory overload. 

Suddenly Patrick took off, running across the lawn, chasing Sebastian. There was just no way he’d catch him, based on leg length alone; David felt bad thinking it, but facts are facts. 

Alexis picked the keys up from where David had dropped them “Get in!” She whipped open the door for him and raced to the driver seat.

“What?!” 

“Be the hero, David, save your boyfriend!” She climbed it and adjusted the mirrors.

“He’s not my boyfriend, Alexis!”

“Angelica!” Ray called after her, attempted to jog up to them.

“On it,” she called out the window.

“I don’t think he was telling you to do this!” David chastised.

“Move it, David, please!”

“I am trying, Alexis!” David seethed, clamoring in with difficulty, unable to put the seatbelt on.

Alexis started it up and slammed it in drive. “Angelica Bloomfield, in pursuit!” she said, perfectly calm, into her wire. “Hang on.” Alexis drove up on the lawn, whipping David around a bit. 

“Need I remind you that I am handcuffed right now and have nothing to hold onto!” 

“Chill, David.” She drove over a small garden, pulverizing the roses. 

“Well, that was poetic!”

The short ride was bumpy, Alexis apparently not caring about planters or small shrubbery. Driving past Patrick, Alexis cut the wheel and slammed on the breaks ahead of Sebastian, skidding across the lawn. David sailed across the car and slammed his head into the window, it cracked. “Alexis!” 

“It’s a scratch, David!” 

Next thing, Sebastian tried to get around the car, but the surprise slowed him down. Alexis hopped out of the car— as if she was going to apprehend him. With some struggle, David managed to get the door open, and hopped out; his wrists were beginning to hurt.

Sebastian looked at the two of them, defeated. “Fuck the both of you,” he took off again, and Alexis— to her credit— tried to chase him; heels be damned

Everyone was out of the estate now, spread across the lawn like the vultures they are. Not one person checked to see if he was okay, he noted.

David watched as Patrick caught up and tackled Seb to the ground, and he wished he had recorded it. Then the blood started trickling down his face. Fuck. Before he had a chance to concentrate on the pain radiating from the side of his head, six unmarked SUVs surrounded them, with lights flashing. Patrick had gotten Sebastian in cuffs, and lifted him to his feet. David heard him go through his whole speech again, shoving him off to another agent and jogging back over to David. 

“Hey— Jesus.” Inspecting his head as he took the cuffs off, Patrick’s concerned warmed him. Gingerly, he touched the cut and David winced. “I need a medic,” he said into the radio on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“I’m very startled,” David put on a show, goading Patrick into touching him again. 

Patrick thumbed his arm, then pulled him over to the Hummer to have a seat. 

“So, is this what it’s like to date an FBI agent?” David asked, dimples pressed into his cheeks.

“Are we dating?” Patrick asked skeptically. 

“I didn’t just get my head smashed into a car window not to walk away with a boyfriend.” 

“Boyfriend now?” Patrick’s eyebrows shot up. From behind him, the ambulance showed up. “I think that might be the brain injury talking.” 

“Well, you better take it then, before I come to my senses.” 

The medic came over, breaking the moment a little, but David allowed it. She began with quick vitals. “Okay—” she rummaged through a med-pack. “I’m gonna put this on the cut—” she dabbed it with gauze and David winced. “Yeah, it fuckin’ sucks, sorry. You wanna walk over to the ambulance, or would you like the stretcher.” 

“Walk, please.” He’d already been embarrassed enough, getting carted away on a stretcher was out of the question.

“Be right back,” Patrick said. Jogging over to Ray, they exchanged some words as David stepped into the ambulance. He clapped Ray’s arm then climbed into the ambulance, taking the empty seat next to the stretcher the EMT made David lay on.

“You don’t have to come with me,” David swore. 

“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?”

David beamed, smile wider than a mile. Patrick leaned down and kissed him, sirens blaring and an impatient EMT tapping her foot next to them, but David didn’t care. It was chaotic and loud, and not anything like he’d imagine it would be. Even so, he smiled into the kiss, holding Patrick’s head in place. Patrick was his. 

For real. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank youuuuu to Abby Cadabby for encouraging this fic and rewriting the first paragraph for me. She is basically the reason yall have this ending, I was straight up ready to abandon. She is a button. ANNNND thank you to Shelby, my Sheb, for looking over the smut for me, you're my favorite lesbian. And as always, JusReading for giving this a courtesy read through to make sure it all flowed like body milk.
> 
> Yall know I gotta say it. I don't love this chapter, but I'm happy I finished what I started. Don't ever ask me to write another fic. I'm officially retired.


	7. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two Years Later.......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ima be real with yall. ain't nobody beta'd this. mistakes be damned.

Three weeks after Twahid’s, David got another visit from the FBI, this time from Revenue. Patrick had heard about it and made himself available to be there for David. It wasn’t easy, and Patrick would pay money never to see David in that state again. There was one upside, David owned a town. A town that is very _ very _ close to Patrick’s hometown. David’s other saving grace is that he spent an astronomical amount of money on clothes in Dubai, and he got that payout from the FBI, Clint made sure. 

Patrick would never tell David this, it was too cliche, too much, but it all felt serendipitous, like everything happened exactly as it should so they could end up here, in Patrick’s bed together. 

It had been two years since everything happened, and Patrick stayed back home, no longer taking global operations. In large part because Alexis was no longer his asset, her cover blown when her money was taken. She made due though, training new assets as they came in. She was just as good at that as she was out in the field and Patrick was happy they found a place for her. 

He and David had come a long way, longer than Patrick had ever expected, but always hoped for. Everything with David clicked. At David’s side, in bed, in the car, at dinner, in his apartment: it all felt exactly right. A feeling he had searched for longer than he’d known all crashed down on him in waves when David walked into his life. David made it easier to face the hard times, to push him to be a better man, to be himself, to come out to his parents and the world. 

Now it was just before nine in the morning and Patrick glanced over at David, sleeping soundly in bed. It was hard not to lean down and kiss him, to cuddle up next to him and breathe into his neck, teasing him awake. He had things to do and it had to be done while David was sleeping. 

He was nervous— more nervous than any operation he’d ever been on, and that includes the time he was kidnapped by Swaheelie Pirates with Alexis in 2012. 

Carefully, he climbed out of the bed and pulled a folder out of his desk, leaving it on the bed where he was for David to see when he got up. Then he walked over to his dresser and reached toward the black of his drawer and pulled a long, velvet box out. When he closed it, it wasn’t as quiet as he hoped it would be and David stirred. 

“Hmm,” David hummed, snapping his eyes open when he realized Patrick wasn’t there. 

Discreetly, Patrick sneakily hid the box behind him and sat down on the bed, placing the box behind his back. Very stealth, if he did say so himself. 

“You know how I feel about papers in beds,” he griped when he saw the folder. 

“Might have to reopen the case,” Patrick sighed, his stomach on fire. 

“What— _ Thee _ Case?” Awake now, David swiped the folder up. 

Patrick had to smirk at his interest. David had become quite the sounding board on Patrick’s job over the past few years, and Patrick knew he couldn’t resist the interest about the case he had a personal hand in being reopened— one may say David was offended. 

He sat up. When his eyes landed on the tab B-13, he seemed to realize, maybe. 

“What’s this?” he said breathily. 

“Why don’t you open it and find out.”

_ Case number B-13: David John Rose _

_ Handler name: Patrick Brewer, badge #887 _

_ Handler notes: I went undercover as Mr. Rose’s date to a function. David was an exemplary asset, professional and helpful. But more importantly, David is a good person. _

_ He walked into my office and turned my world upside down, and I didn't know what to do about it. My job was to keep him safe, but he ended up returning it back to me, tenfold. He made it easy. Made it easy to be myself, to feel safe, to feel free. I learned that having David at my side changed everything, it made work better, it made life better. I look at life with new meaning, and I know what I want and I take it. And I want David Rose, for real. _

David put the folder down, eyes damp. And when he looked over at Patrick, pulling out the box from behind his back, he let a small cry slip out. 

“What’s going on?” 

“So there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you…” his voice trembled a bit, and his own eyes started to well. “David, you are the love of my life. And I can’t even begin to count the ways you changed my life, how many times I can say thank you for everything you do for me, and for showing me what love should feel like. So, I thought instead of saying thank you again...I could ask you to marry me instead.” Patrick opened the box and David’s cry shook his shoulders. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Easy decision of my life.”

David took the box and looked at the rings, smile stretching across his face. “ — wait is the case really reopened?” 

“No,” Patrick couldn’t believe he had to ask. 

Coming to his senses, David surged forward. “Yes, it’s a yes. I love you!” 

The kiss was a little wet, but charged, pressed hard to each other's lips. Then David was hugging him tighter and tighter, and Patrick let him, liked it. 

When they pulled off. David looked at the rings again, marveling at them. Patrick wasn’t even gonna be humble about it, he knew he hit a home run with those rings. 

“Can I put them on?” Patrick asked. 

“Yes— yes, of course.” David screwed off his silver ones, setting them on the nightstand. 

One by one, Patrick slipped them on David’s fingers, putting them in the order David wears most: two on the ring finger, one of the middle, and one on the pointer. They both stared at them when he was done, David still sniffling. 

“I feel like you should have one,” David looked apologetically. 

“It’s okay. I’ll rummage through evidence and get me a fake one from the case.” 

“You absolutely will not,” David abolished. Patrick loved that he couldn’t stop looking at his rings. “I can’t believe you did this on a Monday when I have to go to work.” 

“No, you don’t. Stevie said she’d watch the store for you.” 

“Does this mean I’m gonna have to make her employee of the month again?” 

“Is she your employee? I thought you two were equal partners?” 

“Who’s name is on the building?” David retorted. 

“Either way, you don’t have to be back til next Monday.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Yeah,” Patrick smiled, kissing him again. “Pack a bag, we’re leaving in nine hours.” 

David smiled brighter. “Pack a bag? What are you planning, Agent Brewer?” 

“Let’s just say I’m calling in a favor from a friend— oh, and Happy Birthday.” 

David all but lept forward, latching himself around Patrick’s neck. “I love you,” he mumbled. 

“I love you, too.” 

From undercover boyfriends to real boyfriends, to forever.  


Nine hours later they were boarding an international flight to Dubai, thanks to Twahid. 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CASE CLOSED!

**Author's Note:**

> ew-davidd on tumblr. Come talk to me. Thank you for any and all feedback you leave on here. If you feel drawn to tell me you don't like this you should know I get rejected for a living so I'm numb to it.


End file.
